


Learning Curve

by ThisWasInevitable



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Awkward Flirting, Campaign: Amnesty (The Adventure Zone), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Kitchen Sex, Light Dom/sub, Love Bites, M/M, Masturbation, Meet-Ugly, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Reader request, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Strap-Ons, TAZ-Amnesty, Trans Duck Newton, Trans Stern, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Vibrators, background danbrey, in a loving way, indruck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-10-18 14:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 44,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20640521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: Duck Newton just wants to get through his senior year at Western University. He wants his friends Dani and Aubrey to be happy together. He wants his friend Barclay to maybe chill out about a new guy in town.He wants to stop running into the guy with the red glasses, who seems to always bring him bad luck.Indrid Cold just wants to hold things together. He wants his friends to be safe. He wants to know why he and Duck Newton keep meeting under bad circumstances.Oh, and he wants to know why people keep disappearing from Kepler.(And if maybe, just maybe, Duck Newton likes him more than he says).





	1. Study Time

**Author's Note:**

> A reader requested: I’ve wanted to read a college AU (since I myself am a college student) where everyone is human but Indrid still has future seeing powers. Maybe you could write a meet-ugly for indruck and have sternclay and danbrey as side ships? Thank u! 
> 
> So here we go y'all, it's time for an Amnesty College AU

The Western University campus is blanketed by stars, the warm June air filtering through bedroom windows and whispering across the streets, crickets calling beneath the soft rustling of the trees. 

It’s perfect sleeping weather.

Unfortunately, Duck Newton will not be sleeping any time soon. 

Instead he is cursing fate, the university system, and his own study habits as he sits in under the dim florescents in the stuffy, 24-hour study room of the library. His notes are spread out before him, his laptop has every lecture for his advanced statistics course open, and he’s been through more red bulls than is probably healthy. 

At least he managed to score a study cubicle all to himself. 

“Excuse me?” 

So much for that.

He turns his head. Whoever he was expecting in that doorway, it wasn’t a guy with a weird face and red glasses. Why the hell is his hair silver? Is that a thing?

“May I share this space?”

Duck shrugs, “go for it, man.”

The guy gives him a tight, tired smile, and sits down as far away from his as the tiny room allows. Pulls out a stack of notes and starts reading.

For awhile they’re each others stress-filled mirror; Duck carding his hand through his hair as he glares at the equations, the other man tugging at his as he bites his lip. 

_Clickclickclick_

Duck ignores the noise the first ten times it happens. On time eleven he looks up, annoyed,

_Clickclickclick_

“Hey, bud, could you knock that off? Tryin to study.”

His study-buddy looks at him, confused.

“Your pen” He points at the offending item. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I fidget when I’m stressed. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He sets the pen down, picks up a notebook. 

Duck pours over his (failed) practice test for the fifth time in the last hour. 

_Clickclickclick_

Deep breaths, it’s not like the guy’s doing it to fuck with him. They’re both just stressed

_Clickclickclick. _

It’s not like if he loses his focus, he’s going to fail. He’ll be fine, it’ll all be fine as long as he stays calm.

_Clickclickclick_

“For the love of fuck, gimme that pen!”

“I'm using it.” The other man shoots him an annoyed glance

“Yeah, to drive me up the fuckin wall!”

“I’m not doing it on purpose! And it’s no worse than you bouncing your knee and jostling the table”

“At least that’s quiet!”

“No, it’s not, the table is rather creaky and I can’t focus on my notes when they’re vibrating.”

“Gentlemen.” A clipped, tired voice address them from the doorway. The poor grad student assigned to the night shift looks at them over her glasses. 

“Given that you’re disrupting the other students, I need to ask you to leave.

“Wait we can-”

“I’m sorry, we didn’t-”

“Out.” She points down the hall towards the main doors. The other man shoves everything back into his bag in one go and darts out of the room. Duck takes slightly longer, not wanting to crumple anything important, before heading out into the night. 

He goes to unlock his bike, finds the stranger pacing back and forth near the rack.

“I’m screwed, so screwed, so very, very screwed.”

“Join the party, pal, it’s finals week.” Duck pulls his bike from the rack.

“You don’t understand, I know for a fact that the study room was my last chance to pass. My apartment is too loud thanks to my neighbors, and nowhere else is open. I’m going to fail.” He stops, gaze going oddly blank before adding softly, “we both are.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t started yellin we’d still be in there.”

“_I _was not the one who started yelling.” He hisses, glaring at Duck. 

“Well if you hadn’t-” Duck stops, takes a deep breath, “fuck it, nevermind, I gotta go try and study more.”

He hops on his bike and heads off towards the apartment, praying that his neighbor is haven’t a fucking party and trying not to freak out. Not like Mr Gloom-and-doom back there helped at all. How the hell can the guy know whether he’ll fail or not?

Odds are he’ll just squeak by.

\------------------------------

“So, yeah, I fuckin failed and now I gotta re-take the class over the summer if I wanna graduate on time.” Duck sips his coffee, mood hovering between being resigned and being extremely pissed. 

“That sucks.” Aubrey takes a large slurp of her iced, spiced mocha, eyes lighting up just a she finishes, “but, hey! Didn’t you say it’d be good if you could volunteer at the park over the summer so Thacker might hire you on as, like, an assistant come fall?”

“Yeah.” Duck shrugs, “guess you got a point.”

Aubrey beams, though Duck can tell that her gaze is over his shoulder rather than on him. He knows exactly what, or rather who, she’s looking at.

“Today the day?” 

“Yes! Maybe. I think.”

“Aubrey, for fucks sake, Dani’s crazy about you, just ask her out.”

“I will. I, uh, I have to wait until she’s done with her shift. Can’t hit on someone when they’re at work.”

“Aubrey, half our friends work here, Dani included; you’re not some random dude tryin to put the moves on her.” 

“Here” is The Lodge, a coffee shop slash...well, Duck’s not exactly sure. But it’s more than just a coffee shop. It’s the place where a certain type of person gravitates to find their own kind. It’s where the kids with pride pins on their jackets, with too many tattoos and piercings, with families who had to take out college loans, with bad reputations that they never managed to shake, all come together. It’s a safe haven, a meeting place, a study spot. For many of them it’s a home away from home.

For some, like Dani, or their friends Barclay and Jake, it’s literally home away from home. They live in rooms in the building attached to the lodge, swapping their work at the shop for a paycheck and a place to stay. That arrangement comes courtesy of Mama, the owner and head of the lodge. She’s told them many times, usually when they’re all nursing tea or beer late some night, that if she could set up the same arrangement for all of them, she would. 

Duck spots Dani waving to Jake and then stepping outside.

“Aubrey, she’s off her shift.”

“Uhhhhhhhh” Aubrey freezes, looking out the window. Duck stands up, walks behind his friend and slips his arms under her armpits, starts hoisting her out of her chair.

“C’mon, Little, I’ll carry you out there if I gotta.”

“Okayokay,” Aubrey whacks his arm away with a laugh, straightens her denim vest, and heads towards the door. Duck gives her a thumbs up.

“You got this, Lady Flame.”

\-----------------------------------------------------

She can do this. It’s just Dani, her friend, the person she talks to a bunch, the girl she texts “goodnight” every single day, the girl who’s been featuring in her fantasies since the day she first laid eyes on her ivy-green eyes and contagious smile. 

“Oh, hey Aubrey.” Dani looks up from her phone with a grin.

“Nckh.” Aubrey responds.

“I’m glad you found me, I had something to ask you.”

“Yeah?” Aubrey’s cheeks are heating up, and she looks at the ground to try and calm herself. Succeeds only in staring at the tattoo of honeysuckle vines that twines up Dani’s leg, wishing she could trace her fingers over it, and higher still.

(Not helping, gay thoughts).

“Aubrey?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, sorry, spaced out. What did you want to ask?”

Dani steps closer, taking her hand, “I was asking if you wanted to go out with me on Saturday. On a date.”

Aubrey stares at her for a beat.

“WOOOHOOO HELL YEAH!” She throws her arms around Dani, who laughs and hugs her back, “I’ve got a date with the hottest girl in Kepler.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, fireblossom.” Dani kisses her nose, “Cause the hottest girl in town is standing right in front of me.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Friday night finds them all in the lodge, celebrating the end of the semester. Barclay’s outdone himself, making two different cakes, four pies, and those fluffy sugar cookies Aubrey likes. Mama sits in the corner, chatting with two of the few regulars over the age of thirty; Thacker, a ranger at the nearby Jepsen State Park, and Ned Chicane, who runs the local tourist trap. 

Duck sips his drink, chatting to Barclay over the counter, when someone taps him on the shoulder.

“What's up, Dani?”

“Remember that friend I’ve been telling you about?”

“The one you said moved into my buildin?”

“Yeah! He’s here, and I wanted you two to meet. He could really stand to get to know some more people in town.”

“Fine by me, sounded like a cool fella.”

“Hey, Indrid!” Dani waves, and Duck turns to set his glass on the counter.

When he turns back around, he’s face to face with red glasses, silver hair, and smile that falters as soon as they lock eyes with each other. 

And at the exact same time, both he and Indrid say, “_you_.”


	2. We Have to Stop Meeting Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck and Indrid bump into each other again, and again, and again as the summer progresses. Indrid can't help but wonder if that's good or bad.

“This is the guy who got me stuck here over the summer!”

“I did no such thing, and us getting kicked out of the room caused me to fail as well. Not that it seems like you care.”

“Hey! I’m an extremely carin person!”

“Whoah, whoah, okay, hold on.” Dani sticks a hand between them, “could we maybe not start out with yelling?”

“Yeah” Aubrey appears next to her, summoned by the commotion “it’s not like you got each other thrown out on purpose. Unless you did, in which case you're being dicks.”

Indrid crosses his arms, mutters “It’s not my fault I fidget.”

“Ain’t my fault I get tense.” Duck counters. 

“Oookay” Aubrey grabs Ducks shoulders, starts steering him away, “let’s try this again when everyone is less grumpy.”

“Fine, I gotta head out anyway, got work in the mornin.”

“Aw, wait-”

“No, no,” Indrid sighs louder than necessary, buttoning up his light sweater “I can go, I have to be up early.”

“Don’t you try guilt trippin me”

“I’m not, I really do have an early morning.”

“Probably not any earlier than I do.”

“Now is that really necessary-”

“Hoo boy” Aubrey and Dani exchange a concerned look as the pair continue bickering over, as far as they can tell, absolutely fucking nothing. 

“You’re telling me.” Barclay says tiredly, holding his keys up in the air, “I have to drive them home.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid counts the rotations of the ceiling fan, his only defense in this room against the July heat, looks back down at his sketch. It’s a drawing of summer flowers in Jepsen State Park. A half-finished drawing, because when he’d been working on it…

“You ain’t supposed to be here.”

He doesn’t even need to turn around to know who that drawl belongs to.

“Hello to you as well, Duck.”

“Indrid, I’m serious, this chunk of trail is off limits.”

Indrid spins awkwardly on the rock he’s perched on. Duck is wearing a sort of ranger-lite outfit, looking utterly in his element, perfectly in control and calm. He looks handsome, and that realization is so unbidden that Indrid actually waves his hand in the air to shoo it away. 

“This trail is clearly marked on the map, and I saw no sign saying otherwise.”

“It’s-wait, really? Oh shit, lemme see the map you’re usin.”

Indrid pulls the crumpled paper from his pocket and Duck snatches it from his hand.

“Fuck, they didn’t change ‘em all out to the new ones! And those freakin raccoons must've taken the caution tape down. Again.” Duck looks genuinely alarmed and Indrid hops off his rock. 

“Is there something dangerous?” 

The question is answered by furious buzzing. They both look down in horror to see yellow jackets emerging from the ground.

“Come on.” Duck takes off down the path, Indrid right behind him. The first bite is to his arm, the next under his shirt. Up ahead of him, Duck swears and smacks the small of his back.

They make it back to the ranger station in one piece, Duck disappearing to nurse his bites and stings while his co-volunteer, Juno, helping Indrid with his own. 

“That’s weird, Duck’s usually real good with visitors who get hurt.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Indrid says bitterly.

He didn’t. And laying on the floor, he doesn’t.

Because he’s seen visions of Duck; Duck laughing with Aubrey and the others, Duck playing with his cat, huge smile on his face, Duck eagerly showing a group a kids a frog in a pond, Duck comforting his friends when they’re in distress. He's seen a man he wants to know. 

And yet his foresight, this supposedly useful power he's been stuck with as long as he can remember, has done nothing, not one single thing, to help him correct for his bad start with Duck. He’d seen the odds of them arguing when he’d poked his head into the study room, but pushed ahead because he was desperate, because he wanted the good futures, the ones where he and Duck studied in peace and chatted happily at the party a few days later. 

This is not the first time he’s ignored the odds in his visions in favor of things he wanted. Not the first time the things he’s wanted have come back to bite him. Silly him, wanting things he ought not to.

He’s also more than a little frustrated with Duck. The misfortune Indrid brings into their interactions is increasingly accidental, and Duck is clearly smart enough to know that. 

Still, even in their repeated arguments, Indrid sees the outline of what a friendship with Duck could be. He wants to fill in the details, start seeing the full shape and color what a life with Duck in it (and not annoyed with him) looks like. 

Indrid knows he shouldn’t expend so much energy thinking about Duck. He has a dozen other problems to think about, a thousand worries introduced into his mind by his visions. He has to figure out what the disaster flickering at the edges of his mind is, has to get better at spotting danger before it happens. 

He has to be at work in an hour. 

“Oh no” he sits bolt upright. His uniform, he meant to wash it, he can’t afford another dress code error. If he hurries, he can have it clean and on in time to get to the store. 

As he rushes down the stairs towards the laundry room,he curses his weird future seeing powers; when your mind is darting in and out of different timelines, rearranging moments, it presents unique challenges in managing your time in the here and now. Worse, you can’t exactly go to school counselors, to bosses, to accommodations offices and say “Hello I am constantly seeing the future and it makes it difficult to focus and complete tasks within linear time, I’m going to need some help doing the things you want me to do." That's high on the list of things he's learned the hard way.

Because this is the kind of day he’s having, one washer is broken and another has thirty minutes left. And when he opens the one that looks done, he discovers someone rudely left their clothes in after they were done. 

Muttering, he pulls them out and sets them on top of the dryer. If he has two spare quarters he might, maybe, start the persons dryer load for them. 

He’s shoving the last of his quarters into the washer when a familiar voice comes over his shoulder.

“What the hell man? You can’t just leave a fellas laundry out like that.”

“Well, if a certain ‘fella’ took his laundry out on time, I wouldn’t need to. Besides, I did you a favor; leave it in too long like that it gets mildewy.”

“Uh huh, sure, you did it from the goodness of your heart.” Duck opens the dryer, begins chucking his clothes in. 

“If you must know, I’m under a bit of a time crunch. And my manager has already made it clear that failure to comply with the dress code will end badly for me.”

“The coffee shop don’t got a dress code, Indrid, neither does the dog groomin place.”

“This is for the dollar store.”

“Jesus, you work every shitty job in this town? No wonder I can’t get away from you.”

Indrid winces, out of the corner of his eye sees Duck do the same. 

“Sorry, that weren’t called for. I just finished a double-shift at the grocery store and-”

“It’s alright” Indrid replies softly, “seems like we’re both a bit on edge.”

“Yeah.” Duck murmurs. Indrid notices the shirt he’s holding and spots his chance to restart things.

“I love that band.”

“Huh?” Duck gives him a distracted glance.

“JackalNope.” He tilts his head towards the white shirt, adorned with an incredible black drawing of a skeletal jackalope with flowers twining around its bones, “Barclay put me onto them a few years ago. Who knew death folk was something the world needed?”

Duck smiles, lips closed but genuine, “Yeah, they’re incredible. Got this the one time they came anywhere close enough to my home-town for me to see ‘em.” He flips the shirt over fondly, and his face falls. 

“Course, now the fuckin thing has a huge coffee stain on it. Thanks to you.”

“I told you, it was an accident! Those cup lids all look the same when you’re on three hours of sleep.”

Duck huffs, derisively, and Indrid groans in frustration, heads out of the room without looking back. 

It’s only when he’s leaning against his kitchen counter, angrily drinking a juicebox that he remembers that, as someone who’s absent-minded at times and works with lots of stain-prone materials, he actually knows how to get coffee stains out of clothing. 

Maybe he should knock on Ducks door and offer to help him spot-treat it after work. Maybe that will start a truce between them.

“And maybe hell will freeze over.” He sighs to his reflection in the window. 

\--------------------------------------------------

Two apartment complexes over, a biology major steps out her front door. It’s quiet as she walks to the bike rack, most of her fellow renters gone home for the summer. She hums along with the top forty hit chirping through her headphones. Pulls out her car key, mind on the errands she has to run. 

Something touches her shoulder.

Half a second later, a car key falls to the ground in the now-empty parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having Indrid interact slightly differently with his visions than he does in canon, since in this situation he's a 20-year old human having to deal with them on his own, rather than an alien being with decades of practice under his belt.


	3. Herding Cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barclay meets his new neighbor. Duck and Indrid manage to have an actual conversation.

“Dude, this rules!” Jake spins in a rapid circle, taking in the small. His enthusiasm brings a smile to Barclays face, even as he wishes he hadn’t let him carry the box full of breakable dishware

“Jake, you were here when we were renovatin it.” Duck smiles, setting the two chairs he’s carrying down.

“Yeah, but like, it wasn’t all finished and like, house-looking.”

“Jakes got a point” Dani opens the box in front of her on the floor, “it’s really cool to see all the work you and Mama did come together.”

Barclay’s still a bit surprised and overwhelmed. When Mama asked him, at the start of May, for help fixing up the run-down cottage on the lodge property, he assumed it was for her so she could stop sleeping on the first floor of the cafe/home for weirdo youth. He dropped the hammer he was holding when she told him otherwise.

“You ain’t just my cook, Barclay; you’re one of my closest friends, and far as I can tell, the lodge is your home. Seemed only fair that you get a space all to yourself.”

And so, with Duck and Thacker lending a hand when possible, they’d restored the cottage to a livable condition. Dani and Aubrey (sometimes over skype) helped him pick the colors, and Indrid stenciled images of trees and birds into the living room walls. 

Now, as August rolls lazily to a close, his friends are helping him move from the main house into his new home, in spite of him reassuring them that it wasn’t that big of a job and he could manage it just fine. While they’re help is borderline chaotic at times he wouldn’t trade it, or their company, for the world. 

Barclay hasn’t had more than a rooms worth of space to decorate and call his own years. He’s still not sure what to do with it all, although everyone else is bursting with ideas about what he could do. 

“We could get you some houseplants.” Dani offers.

“Or a rabbit! Then Dr Harris Bonkers could have a friend.”

“How about a big ol’ do not disturb sign?” Duck pops open a soda from the fridge, and Barclay rolls his eyes when he catches him smirking.

“That was one time, and I hadn’t gotten laid in months. No way was I letting any of you freshman ruin it, even if I was your RA.” 

“One of us coulda been bleedin out on the floor, or their coulda been a fire or some shit. Real irresponsible of you.” Duck teases, takes another sip, “Jesus, feels like fuckin forever ago, movin in to my dorm and you stashin little things of tea’n cocoa in that shitty res hall kitchen in case folks needed it. You were definitely the coolest RA in the buildin.”

“Uh huh” Barclay smiles as he opens a box of books and writing supplies, “And that view’s got nothing to do with me not ratting you out when I caught you smoking pot.”

“I ain’t sayin it didn’t help. You want these boxes of clothes in the bedroom?”

“Please.” 

Technically, he doesn’t need their help unpacking, but it’s nice to listen to them chatting away, Jake or Aubrey switching topics suddenly, to watch Dani smile whenever she looks at her girlfriend. 

A click of a gate latch hops through the window. The lodge shares a fence with Moiras’ Piano Bar, the residents and staff of each well-known to each other. Odds are it’s Pigeon or another employee taking a short-cut to work. 

“Excuse me, but I’m hoping you may be able to lend me a hand.” 

He looks towards the door and the world switches to slow-motion, the birds chirping louder and the sun shining brighter, as if Barclays been dropped into some rom-com. His mind won’t feed him useful thoughts, merely base inputs: blue eyes, dark hair, cheekbones, well-dressed. Handsome. 

“Oh, apologies.” The man steps through the door, “I’m Joseph, Joseph Stern. Your new neighbor.”

\-------------------------------------------------

Duck walks back into the living room and is instantly confused; there’s a guy he doesn’t recognize standing in the door, Dani and Aubrey are giggling, and Barclay appears to have been swapped out for a statue. 

“Hi.” Barclay finally manages to speak as Duck leans on the back of the couch. 

“Hello.” The other man responds, polite yet unsure, clears his throat “I moved into the twin to your place on the other side of the fence. My internet isn’t set up yet and, well, I’m getting some rather aggravated phone calls from my boss about needing to submit some things. Would it be at all possible to use your wi-fi? I assumed “bigfootbytes” was coming from here since it’s the closest building to mine.”

“Yeah, uh, sure, lemme go grab the little thing with the password, it’s uh, one of those jargony ones.” 

Barclay brushes past Duck and yep, his friend is blushing hard.

“Soooo” Aubrey, still on the floor, rests her hands behind her and leans back to regard the newcomer “Joseph, how come you’re living behind Moiras? I knew she was renting it but I didn’t know she’d found a taker.”

“It was one of the few places I could afford. I’m a forensics grad student, so I’m not exactly well-off.”

“Dude, like CSI shit?”

Joseph perks up slightly at Jake’s interest, “More like the X-Files. My goal is to one day work for the department of unexplained phenomenon in the FBI.” 

“You do kinda give off a man in black vibe.” Aubrey muses.

“Beg pardon?”

“You’re kinda, and I don’t mean this in a rude way, stiff looking?” 

“Ah” Joseph doesn’t respond beyond that. Duck almost feels sorry for him, doesn’t doubt that he felt the shift in the air when the guy mentioned working for the FBI. Residents of the lodge don’t have the best track record with authority. Neither does Duck, for that matter.

Beyond that, Joseph must register how he looks in the room; ironed, slicked-back, neutrally colored among their varying vivid shades, torn clothes, and relaxed postures. 

A button on the laptop bag he’s holding catches Ducks eyes: the stripes of a flag, pink, white, and blue. Joseph sees him see it, tenses until Duck gives a small nod of his head in recognition and taps his chest. The other man relaxes. 

“UP huh?” Barclay, now more himself, steps past Duck, holding out a small paper, “guess we oughta call you special agent stern.”

Stern huffs out a laugh, “Not for a few years, I’m afraid. Thank you” he takes the slip “I’ll bring it back soon.” 

“No rush. Oh, uh, if you want and my wi-fi works in your place, we could just, like, share service? Makes more sense to split the cost than each pay the full thing, y’know?”

“I...that’s very generous, thank you. I may just take you up on it. Afternoon, nice meeting you all.” He steps awkwardly out the door, shutting it behind him as Aubrey waves.

“Bye, Agent Stern!”

As soon as he’s gone, she turns a devious grin on Barclay, Dani giggling through her fingers behind her.

“Barclays got a crush.” She singsongs.

“Barclay’s got a crush” echo Dani and Jake. Duck opens his mouth to join in, and Barclay levels him with a glare. 

“I wouldn’t, unless you don’t want me to carry that french onion soup recipe to my grave.”

Duck says nothing, and just smiles instead. 

\-------------------------------------

It’s early evening when Duck finally gets back to his place. He’s a little sore from carrying stuff, is weighing whether he wants to take a bath when he notices something wrong.

Winnie isn’t mugging him for her dinner, and isn’t poking her head from her bundle of blankets on the couch. In fact, his cat is nowhere to be seen. He’s halfway through searching the kitchen cabinets for her, spots the missing kitchen window screen.

“Shit” he peers out the open window, praying she’s just out on his little patio or in the nearby tree. No such luck.

He slips his shoes back on, throws the door open to begin his search.

“AH!” He jumps a foot back when, instead of an empty hall, there’s someone standing in front of him. 

“Jesus, Indrid, knock next time.”

“I was about to.” Indrid sighs, flatly, holds out his arms, “I believe this is yours.”

Winnie blinks at him, meows raspily, and all the tension gives from his shoulders.

“Thank fuck she’s okay and, wait, fuck, is that blood?”

“No” comes the tired reply, “it’s paint. She walked all over the project I was working on. I managed to grab her before she tried to groom herself, since I foresaw that going badly.”

“Shit, now I gotta give her a bath. You have any idea what a terror she is when she don’t want to do somethin?”

“I imagine she’s something like her owner.” Indrid grumbles. Winnie chirps at him and he scritches her ears, “you’re right, that was rude, I’m sure you’re much nicer.”

“Hey, what the fuck?”

“Forgive me, how could I make such a lapse in manners to someone who hasn’t said thank you for returning his cat or apologized for her ruining two days worth of work.” He hands the cat off. Duck expects him to glare, or at least sneer, but instead he seems worn down. Like he didn’t expect Duck to react any other way.

Well, _that’s_ a shitty feeling.

“I, uh, I’m sorry Indrid. For her messin up your...paintin? And for bein a dick.”

Indrid starts, begins saying something, stops and fidgets with the orange crystal he wears around his neck.

“Right, uh, guess I better get her in the tub. Thanks for bringin her home.”

“Can I help?” Indrids fidgeting increases, and he’s staring at the floor, “that is, I mean, it sounds like it’s not really a one-man job.”

“You sure? Not that I mind the help, but I wasn’t kiddin when I said she turns into a monster if you try’n give her a bath.”

“I’m sure.” Indrid gives him a hesitant smile, “in fact, it’d be my pleasure to help.”

\-----------------------------------------------

“OwwOWouchow, come on little one, just hold still.”

“Yeah, good luck with that, lemme see if I can get ‘er pawOWfuck”

“Are you, a-hah, gotcha, quite sure she’s a cat and not OW a mongoose? Or perhaps a demon?”

“Dunno, found her out by a dumpster as a kitten, can you get her other paw facin me? There we go, that’s a good girl, such a good girlYE_ouch_.”

“What if I hold her like this?”

“Hey, that’s actually workin, nice goin uh, uhoh she’s gonna-”

“Oh dear-”

“REEEOWhisss” 

“Do that.”

\---------------------------------------

Forty-five minutes after bringing Winnie into the bathroom, the cat is a furious, damp bundle, burrioted in a blanket on the couch.

In the bathroom, a damp Duck and Indrid assess the damage. Specifically, the damage to themselves. 

“Man, she did a number on your back.” Duck eyes Indrids shredded tank top. 

“That was on me, I didn’t have the grip on her I thought I did and didn’t see her start climbing over my shoulder in time. How’s your arm?”

Duck finishes putting band-aids on the scratches, “Not great, but ain’t the worst she’s ever gotten me. Think you’re gonna need to put bactine on those.” He gestures to the deep red scratches running down Indrids back, “here, lemme help.”

Indrid shucks his ruined shirt, facing the mirror as Duck sprays on the anti-septic, “I imagine she was a bit agressive when you first got her, if she’d been a stray.”

“More scared than anythin, but yeah” Duck tilts his head one way, then the other to make sure he hasn’t missed any spots. Indrid hands him the pack of band-aids from the sink, “First two months she didn’t want me near her. Hid under beds, only ate when I was asleep or out. Just had to let her go at her pace. Knew from the vet she wasn’t chipped, and no one was lookin for her. Didn’t have it in me to give up on her.”

“That was very good of you.” Indrid smiles into the mirror, his eyes finding Ducks in the reflection. 

How long has Indrid been blushing?

How long has Duck been smoothing his hand down his back as he talks?

Did they start out this close together?

Duck takes a step back, tells himself it’s purely so he doesn’t invade Indrids space. Indrid turns, still smiling, tilts his head to consider him. 

He needs to get the other man a shirt, because if he doesn’t he’s going to stand here and watch stray water drops trail down his stomach and towards the divots and edges of his hips, wishing he could watch them go lower still.

“Sorry she, uh, um, trashed your shirt. I’ll go grab you somethin to wear home.”

He rummages through the crates he uses as a makeshift dresser, pulls out a deep green v-neck that’s always fit him a bit weird.

“Here ya go.” He presents the shirt as he steps back into the bathroom and Indrid takes it. Then he smirks.

“I didn’t realize you owned something that wasn’t black or khaki.”

“Man’s gotta have a his style. And I own plenty of colorful things.”

“Socks don’t count.” Indrid teases, pulling on the shirt. 

“What about underwear?”

“Only if it’s regularly seen by other people.” Indrid replies breezily, stepping around him, heading towards the front door.

“How do you know it ain’t?” Duck raises an eyebrow.

“We share a building Duck. One with very thin walls and ceilings. You haven’t brought anyone home all summer.”

Anger seeps up his throat. He crosses his arms. 

“Not like you’ve done any better.” 

“Yes, but I’ve been told I’m _off-putting_” the tone he uses on that last word is the one he uses whenever he’s repeating something Duck’s said to him, “what’s your excuse?”

“None of your damn business!” He slams the door as soon as Indrid steps into the hall.

Turning, he catches sight of Winnie, peering at him angrily from her bundle. 

“Don’t gimme that look. We were doin just fine until he went and reminded me that there ain't no one worthwhile interested in me. Jesus, for a minute I thought he was flirtin.”

\-------------------------------------------------

Indrid shuts the door of his apartment, immediately turns and thunks his head against it. After years of trying to figure out how his foresight works, one would think he’d be better at seeing when he was about to say something he’d regret.

One would be wrong. Or, at least, partially wrong. He’s definitely gotten better at it. Not that it matters in this instance. 

Why does he keep messing things up with Duck?

His brain supplies only unkind reasons, and so he climbs into bed, pulls the covers over his head, and waits for sleep.

\-----------------------------

Across town, Joseph Stern shuts his laptop, rubbing his eyes with a yawn.

Scratches on wood draw his attention towards his door. He walks to the side window, peering out into the yard between his little cottage and Moira’s bar. Nothing there. 

He turns his back.

The scratches begin again.

It would be perfectly understandable, even logical, to open the door and search for the culprit. 

But Stern has a weird feeling in his gut, and a knowledge of horror movie tropes to boot. 

He locks the door, throws the deadbolt for good measure, closes the blinds and stays awake until whatever was outside finally ceases clawing at his walls.


	4. Good Night, Bad Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck asks Ned for help. Stern and Barclay have dinner. Dani and Aubrey have a waiting list.

“I don’t know why it keeps happenin.” Duck leans against the display case of “genuine bigfoot prints.” It’s before opening hours at the Cryptonomica, Keplers' premier tourist trap, and Ned is busy setting up a new Mothman display. In the far corner of the shop his assistant, Kirby, types rapidly on his laptop.

“Take it from me, Duck, some people just aren’t meant to be in proximity to one another. Perhaps you and Indrid are one such pair”

“But that ain’t exactly it” he passes Ned a glue-gun, “it’s like we start out fine and then end up arguin or takin pot-shots at each other, and I can’t ever tell when things start goin downhill. And it’s real fuckin frustratin, because I wouldn’t mind bein friends with the guy, and lord knows it ain’t easy on Barlcay an’ them to have their friends bickerin.”

Ned regards the stuffed owl he’s gluing fake red eyes to, lips pursed in thought, “Maybe the solution lies down another route. Have you tried sleeping together?”

“Have we _what_?” Duck stands upright, fixing Ned with an incredulous stare. 

“Hear me out. In my considerable experience, sometimes when two people can’t explain the tension between them, it’s because they know that if they don’t direct their emotions elsewhere, they’ll end up doing obscene acts on the nearest flat surface.”

“Jesus, Ned, I don’t wanna fuck the guy! I ain’t even, uh, ever, uh, fuck, noticed how, uh, cute, he, fuck, isn’t?”

“So the thought _has_ crossed your mind.” Ned grins, smug.

“Just the thought that I like lookin at him. Nothin more.”

“Don’t be so quick to discount my suggestion; it’s worked many a time.”

“That what you’re tryin on that British fella who keeps comin by?”

“Why, I have no idea what you mean, my friend.” Ned turns back to the display. 

“Hit it on the nose, Duck!” Kirby calls without looking up, “I can’t tell if they’re flirting or fighting sometimes.”

“Kirby, how about you go check our supply of Owlman mugs in the stock room?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Chicane.” 

Duck laughs a Ned grumbles, “Meddling kids.” 

\--------------------------------

“I’ve kept my ears open every night for the past two weeks, and as far as I can tell it hasn’t come back. Oh, thank you.” Stern takes the chopsticks Barclay offers him, “I must admit I’m relieved; I don’t really enjoy being worried about going outside my house at night.”

“I feel you.” Barclay sits down opposite him, looks elsewhere when the other man blows on his soup, lips pink and inviting through the steam. 

“Really? I’d have thought you don’t scare easily. You’re very, well, intimidating.”

“_I’m_ intimidating? I’m not the one who makes rooms go quiet when I walk in in my fancy suit, agent.”

“Fair. And I suppose it’s more that you look intimidating at first, what with being so big. I find you rather comforting and sweet.” His smile goes shyer and Barclay busies himself stirring sauce into his ramen. 

“Y’know, if you ever get really freaked out, I’m just over the fence. You can come anytime.” 

Stern chokes on a noodle.

“I mean come over anytime.” Barclay shoves a bite into his mouth to prevent sticking his foot in it instead. Stern swallows, and his coughs promptly turn into a small moan.

“Good lord, this is amazing! How the hell did you manage to do this with top ramen?” 

“Trade secret” Barclay grins, preening at the praise. 

“You’ve doomed me, now I’ll never be able to eat normal ramen again.”

“Could always come over and make it again.”

“Barclay, we’re neighbors and, I hope, friends, but you’re not my personal chef, I couldn’t possibly-”

“I like cooking for you.” Barclay says softly and Stern goes silent, “I, uh, I like cooking in general.”

Stern shifts in his chair, crossing his legs, “Is that why you became a chef?”

“I actually majored in food science. Been washing dishes in restaurants since I was 16, knew I felt comfortable in them, so it made sense to apply to them when I needed work my Sophomore year. Mama hired me on as kitchen help, turned out I had more of a knack for it than I thought, and it kinda just went from there. Right before I graduated she asked if I wanted to come on as the head chef so the old one could retire. I jumped at the chance.”

Stern sighs wistfully, “I wish my boss was like that. But no, apparently proving I’m willing to move to a whole new state and school for an internship isn’t enough of a sign of dedication for them to say whether I’m being considered for a position once I graduate.”

“Jesus.”

They eat in companionable silence for a few minutes.

“I know how to remedy that, though.” Stern says, “I intend to solve a mystery, one I know my superiors have yet to resolve.”

“Really?” Barclay leans forward, arms resting on the table, “are you allowed to say more? Is it, like, classified?”

Stern stands, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “Come with me.”

Barclay follows him down the hall and into his bedroom. It’s tidy, much like Stern, and he smiles at the string of UFO lights over the bed. His gaze follows Stern as he steps to a tall bookshelf.

“Are you familiar with the writings of B. Amnesty?”

All of Barclays blood turns to ice at once. 

“Uh, yeah, heard of the guy. Wrote about Bigfoot and stuff, right?”

“Correct” Stern slips one book from the shelf, gazes at it lovingly, “He’s brilliant, his research and writing on cryptids is second to none. This” he turns the cover so Barclay can see it, “was the last book he wrote. Two years ago, he left a cryptic blog post saying he would never be heard from again.”

“Okayyyy.” Barclay can’t tell where this is going and that terrifies him. 

“A rumor went around that he was a student here. I happen to think it was correct.”

“So you think finding him will make the FBI happy?”

Stern hesitates. 

“You’re going to think I’m a conspiracy nut if I tell you.”

“Joseph, you wanna work for the UP. I already think that.” He keeps his tone light and Stern laughs. 

“Touche. Well, then, here it goes: I have reason to believe that Amnesty’s disappearance was because he saw something he shouldn’t have, something that could put people in danger if it got out, and went into hiding before he could be found.”

“And...you’re going to prove to your boss that’s what happened?”

“Oh no, I’m going to do something better: I’m going to find him.”

\------------------------------------

“Aubrey! Dani! I need help.”

“Think you'll have to take a number, buddy.” Dani smiles at him from the floor where she, Aubrey, Dr Harris Bonkers, and Indrid are seated. The silver-haired man is flat on his back, hands folded on his chest.

“Everything okay?” He settles near Indrid.

“Some pieces, I suppose.” He sighs.

“Lemme guess: Duck?”

The other three nod in sync. Then Dani says, “go ahead, Indrid. Here” she places the rabbit on his chest “tell the doctor what’s wrong.”

“That’s more or less all there was. One minute we’re standing in the snack aisle at Tarkesians and I’m about to make a joke about how he’s in the right place, and then I knock over an entire pyramid of Gatorade. Which, of course, he has to clean up.” Indrid rubs his forehead, “And so ends my tale of woe.” He turns his head, looks at Barclay expectantly.

“What’s up bud? You having” Aubrey wiggles her eyebrows “boy problems.”

“I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for Ned Fucking Chicane seeing my discarded draft and not keeping his fucking mouth shut.”

“Let me guess, your paranormal-fixated friend is looking for the author of his favorite books and is about to discover you wrote them as your ‘side-hustle.’ That’s the term, right?”

“Worse.” Barclays shoulders slump. When he looks at the others, his eyes are serious “what I’m about to say, I need you to swear you’ll never, ever, repeat it.”

“Promise” 

“I promise.”

“I promise as well.”

“The reason I stopped writing about cryptids and shit is that the last time, I was investigating Bigfoot sightings up the coast. I got way the hell out in the boonies and I saw, well, I have no fucking idea. But it was definitely a government thing. And I’m pretty sure I was seen. So to be safe I stopped writing, erased as much of the trail connecting me to my books as I could. I mean, I was pretty careful, the publisher never knew my real name, even on the forms I filled out, and I always used a P.O box, shit like that.”

“Whoa” Aubrey sounds impressed. 

“Stern wants to find me to impress his bosses. I mean, he doesn’t know it’s me. Yet. He went into more detail but I was focusing on not panicking and didn’t track what he said.”

“Don't you worry” Aubrey takes Dr Harris Bonkers off of Indrid, hands him to Barclay, “we’ll help you come up with a plan. And we’ve got your back no matter what. Heck, we can stay up all night if we have to.”

“Uh, I have class in the morning. Start of the semester, remember?” Dani kisses her cheek.

“Oh yeah. I can stay up all night. Perk of being a drop out.” She smirks at Dani, who bites her ear playfully.

“Don’t rub it in.”

\------------------------------------------------------

Duck pulls the sheet up over himself, mulling over his classes the next day. Wonders, idly, if Indrid will be in any of them.

Jesus, he really can’t stop thinking about the guy, can he? Maybe Ned’s right, maybe things do need to come to a head in some way.

Since there’s no way in hell he’s going to the ground floor to ask the guy he keeps arguing with, “hey, you down to get down” he slips his hand under his boxers. 

It takes him a few tries to settle on a scene, but eventually he dreams up the two of them once again arguing after bathing Winnie

_“Only if it’s regularly seen by other people.” Indrid replies breezily, stepping around him, heading towards the front door. Duck grabs his arm, raises an eyebrow_

_“How do you know it ain’t?”_

_“We share a building Duck. One with very thin walls and ceilings. You haven’t brought anyone home all summer.”_

_“Wanna know why?” Duck growls, and Indrid takes a step closer._

_“Do tell.”_

_Duck pushes him against the wall, staying toe to toe with him all the while, “I gotta feelin if I did, somehow it’d end up gettin fucked up by you. Fuckin meteor or somethin would fall on the buildin.”_

_“Oh dear” Indrid purrs “Poor Duck, letting me get in the way of him getting laid.” He leans forward, their noses pressed together “if only there was a way I could make it up to you.”_

_Duck spins them around in the small bathroom, rips off the shirt he lent him, and bends Indrid over the sink . He slaps his ass and the taller man arches his back with a happy whine. Duck drags his nails down his sides . Leans over him, panting._

_“You know how you’re gonna make it up to me?”_

_“How?” Indrid flashes that wide, strange grin in the mirror. _

_Duck kisses the crook of his neck, trails his lips up to his cheek and whispers “you’re gonna let me be good to you.”_

Wait, what? 

That’s, that’s not how sex goes for him, at least it hasn’t been since he was in high school. Maybe not even then. But he’s close, and he really wants to come so he can sleep. 

_Indrid straightens, turning in his arms, “Only if you let me return the favor.”_

_Long fingers yank down his pants, Indrid kissing his neck, whispering in his ear, teasing and touching until Duck clings to him._

_“‘M gonna come, fuck” _

_“Perfect my dear, oh yes, so perfect, just be sure to save some energy because after this you are **mine.”**_

Duck gasps, shudders as pleasure moves through his limbs. 

That was...different than he expected. Not bad just, different. 

He falls asleep, satisfied, and wakes up in a decent mood, singing off-key with his “wake-up, punk” playlist as he feeds Winnie. Part of why he’s so chipper is that it occurred to him, right before he fell asleep, that between work and School he’ll see little to anything of Indrid. He can jack off thinking about the guy as much as he wants and it won’t be weird. 

This thought carries him to campus and through the door to his “Intro to Drawing” classroom. The classroom in which there is only one seat left; and it’s right beside Indrid Cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to have Aubrey be someone who dropped out of college, because it didn't make sense to have her in academia while wanting to be a magician (I can't tell in canon if she went to college or if she left home to try and make a name for herself).


	5. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid offers Duck a helping hand. Just not in the way Duck's been dreaming of.

Duck considers bolting, pretending this was the wrong room, for the millisecond it takes for Indrid to notice him. Once he does, there’s no going back; he doesn’t want Indrid to think he’d rather skip class than sit next to him. 

“Hello, Duck.”

“Hey” he plops down in the desk, pulls out a well-worn notebook.

“I didn’t realize you were interested in art.” There’s a note of hope in Indrids voice, and it pulls at Duck like a beloved song playing in a far away room.

“I ain’t, exactly. I mean, don’t hate it, but I fucked up and missed one of my breadth requirements early on. Minnie, my advisor, caught it goin into this year.”

“Glad she did.” 

“You and me both. Kinda surprised your in a beginners class, considerin art’s your thing.”

“To make a very long story short, when I transferred in the middle of last year most of my community college credits came with me. But because of bureaucratic nonsense, my intro art class didn’t count, and somehow none of my others could compensate. So, here I am.”

Duck nods in understanding just as the professor comes in. The lecture is fine, though he pays more attention to Indrid than to what’s being said. The other man draws constantly, sketches that are far too complex and lovely to be called doodles. What’s strangest is that Indrid often doesn’t seem to notice he’s drawing them. His hands move on their own while his eyes stay on the professor, the slides, and (increasingly) Duck. 

They do well the rest of that day, and the lecture on Wednesday on well. Friday, Indrid is once again clicking his pen so rapidly and loudly Duck can’t focus, and kicks his foot. Indrid kicks him back, and doesn’t say goodbye when he gets up. 

Duck can’t tell if this is progress or not.   
\--------------------  
Indrid makes it to the end of the second week of classes before he cracks. He’s been watching Duck struggle with the assignments, get frustrated when he can’t get the hang of things. They’re working on one such assignment during class, the professor treating Fridays as a time for them to work on their own or in groups to get a head start on projects. 

“Would you like a little help?”

Duck looks up at him, and for once his foresight shows him the reply in time to head it off, “I don’t mean that in a rude way. But I think the explanation she gave might not have been the one to best make sense to you.”

“Uhh, sure, shoot.” Duck scoots closer, as much as he can in the uncomfortable bucket seats.

Indrid does his best to explain how to arrange perspective on paper, Duck listening intently and following his guidance. It’s not a masterpiece, but it’s much better than when he started. 

Duck smiles proudly, turning the grin on Indrid and sending his heart-rate through the roof, “Fuck, man, you’re real good at that. Uh, would you be willin to help me out if I get stuck again?"

Indrid nods eagerly, “of course.”

The futures shift and change over the weekend, some showing Duck turning up right away for help, others showing him never doing so. 

On Tuesday, Indrid is icing a sore arm (a sweet but skittish Great Dane nearly pulled it from it’s socket when he tried grooming her at work) when there’s a knock on the door.

He opens it find Duck defeatedly holding out a piece of their art assignment.

“If it ain’t I good time I can leave.”

“Not at all. Please, come in.” 

As he clears space on his tiny table, Duck studies the posters and prints on the wall.

“Oh shit, I fuckin love the _Red Dust_ trilogy!” Duck points at the drawing hanging in what could be called a breakfast nook, if you were one person and ate breakfast standing up. 

The image he's admiring is black and white, the background a rugged desertscape. In the foreground are the figures of two men in profile, facing away from each other. One, with sharp features, wears a black hat, the other wears a sheriffs star. Each holds a pistol, aimed at the sky, as if they are about to count their paces and duel. But as the eye draws lower in the image, it shows their hands intertwined. Below their interlocked hands, in a western-y script, are the words _Red Dust on His Soul_.

“It’s one of my favorite movies.”

“God, the fuckin cliffhanger at the end of the second one, thought I was gonna pass out in the theater.”

Indrid laughs, “I felt the same. I went to see the first one when I needed to get out of the house some rainy Sunday afternoon. I thought it was the most romantic movie I’d ever seen.” He flinches at the admission; it was a safer bet to say he liked the fast pacing and action sequences.

“Yeah.” Duck sighs “If I didn’t know I was gay before, that flick woulda clued me in real quick. Never seen this poster before. It limited edition or somethin?”

“I drew it.” 

“Goddman, ‘Drid, that’s amazin.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He hopes his blush isn't visible.

“Startin to see why you went in for the art student thing. You got a real knack for it.” He snaps his fingers, eyes brightening with an idea, “ you ever seen the deleted scenes?”

“I thought those were an urban legend” Indrid raises an eyebrow as he sits down, setting out his own drawing next to Ducks.

“Nope. They shot a couple of more intense sex scenes than the ones that made it in, but they couldn’t use ‘em without gettin an NC-17, which is bullshit because I seen ‘em and they ain’t any worse than, I dunno, Game of Thrones or some shit."

“I must admit they sound...appealing.” 

“I can bring my copy over sometime and we can watch together.” Indrid must imagine the hungry look that crosses Ducks face when he says that. He can't allow for another explanation; he might do something right

“I’d like that very much. Now, can you show me what’s tripping you up?”

They spend a good two hours together, no bickering, as he helps Duck get the hang of the technique they’re learning. It soon becomes a habit for Duck to text him, and assuming neither of them is stuck at work, either he climbs two flights or Duck descends them to work together. 

“Here,” Indrid, without thinking one day, rests his hand on Ducks to guide it “see, this makes it easier.”

“Ohhh” Duck nods, “I get it.” He smiles up at Indrid, mere inches between them.

Two dozen visions of them kissing flood his mind. He shakes his head with a start.

“You alright?”

“Perfect. Shall we continue?”

The visions get more prevalent through the week. Indrid is pacing, trying to figure out whether they're influencing his feelings for Ducks or not when there’s a knock.

“It was ‘get rid of the stuff that’s about to go bad time’ at work.” Duck holds up two grocery bags, “and, uh, I brought my copy of _Red Dust_, with the extra scenes. Thought you might wanna-”

“Yes” Indrid answers, pulling Duck inside. While he gets the DVD going on his struggling Mac, Duck inventories his haul.

“We got ‘funfetti cake batter ice cream,’ day-old cake pops, buncha bread, bagels, some fancy dip, gorp that I’ll just give to Thacker…”

Soon they’re settled on the couch together, snacking merrily.

Forty-five minutes later, Indrid realizes watching a movie with extra-explicit sex scenes side by side with his crush (?) may not have been the best idea. They’re on what he knows to be the first one of three, he’s getting hard, and Duck is shifting more than usual. 

Mercifully, they arrive at the same silent conclusion to not say a word about it.

By the time the credits roll, Duck is absentmindedly tracing a finger along the deaths-head moth tattooed on Indrids arm. Each pass of his fingertip sends echoes of lightening through Indrids' veins. 

The screen switches back to the menu, jolting Duck from his trance. 

“Guess I, uh, oughta be headin out, since you got work in the mornin.”

“Indeed. Thank you. For the food. And for watching the movie with me.” He murmurs as they walk to the door.

“Anytime.” Duck smiles at him, winking as he waves goodbye.

Indrid shuts the door and locks up, changes from his daytime pajama pants to his nighttime ones and climbs into bed. 

Visions clamber for his attention as he tries to fall asleep. He tosses, turns, shoves the pillow over his head as if that might block them out. When that fails to help in any way, he tries a new approach. Imagines another way his night could have gone. 

_“Guess I, uh, oughta be headin out, since you got work in the mornin.”_

_“You can stay a bit longer, if you want.”_

_Duck gives him a funny sort of smile, says gently “‘Drid, you look like you’re about to pass out on me.”_

_“I” he yawns “I’m fine, though I certainly wouldn’t object to sleeping on you.” _

_“Been told I real comfy.” Duck grins, pats his lap, “c’mon, lay your head down so you don’t fall off the couch.”_

_Indrid shifts onto his side, nestles against the soft warmth of his thighs and stomach, sighing happily. Duck leans across him, poking the computer until it plays the behind the scenes featurette on the costume design._

_Soon, fingers stroke Indrids hair, eventually skating down his sides and rubbing his neck._

_“If you keep doing that I’m going to fall asleep right here.” He turns his head, finds Duck looking fondly down at him._

_“Don’t worry about that none, ‘Drid. I’ll stay right where I am, long as you need me to.”_

_Back in bed, Indrid finally drops off to sleep and dreams of things that might be._


	6. Late Night Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid and Duck go for a walk. Stern tries some negotiation.

Or they might not stand a chance in hell of being anything other than on again/off again acquaintances. 

This Indrid thinks as his hurries out of the grocery store, having just earned Duck a warning from his manager about socializing during work. They hadn’t been talking more than a few minutes, and Indrid genuinely needed help finding the fruit gushers. But as soon as the manager had spoken, Duck glared at him and Indrid shrunk into his sweatshirt, leaving as fast as he could. 

Worse, it’s homecoming weekend, AKA the weekend where downtown is bustling with alumni events and big parties and sports and Indrid can’t find anywhere quiet to go. He has no one to hide with, as Aubrey scored a big magic performance, Dani is helping her out, Jake will be out on the town, and Barclay is working. He’d hoped Duck might have at least one day off to spend with him, or that he’d be at the park and might be up for showing Indrid around. 

So much for that plan.  
\-------------------------------------------------  
Barclay flours down the counter, whistling. They’ve closed up for the night, but he needs to prep even more cinnamon roll dough than normal for the next day, as they’re expecting bigger crowds thanks to homecoming

The kitchen door opens, and he looks up expecting to see Mama in her robe as she turns in for the night.

Instead, Joseph Stern is standing there, arms crossed, looking worried. He’s still in his work clothes, minus his jacket.

Right, Mama turned in half an hour ago.

“Barclay, I have to ask you something.”

Oh no, he’s figured it out, knows about the books, he’s knows Barclays identity-

“Have I upset you somehow?” 

He exhales, relieved, “Nope.”

“It’s just,” Stern fidgets with his tie, “ever since we had dinner at my place, you’ve been avoiding me. And don’t say you haven’t” he gives him a pointed stare “before we just randomly crossed paths, or met up on purpose. Now we bump into each other so infrequently it can’t be by chance.”

“Things have gotten pretty busy for both of us, guess our schedules our more mismatched now that school's started for you. Not that I don’t miss spending time with you.” 

Sterns expression tips from worried to annoyed.

“I don’t appreciate being lied to, Barclay.”

Barclay sighs, dusting his hands off on his apron, “You’re right, there’s something up. Look, how about we talk about this in the morning?” He takes the apron off, hangs it up in hopes that Stern will think he’s done for the night.

“By which you mean you will avoid me by any means possible tomorrow morning when I come to meet you.”

Damn it, how’d he know?

Sterns arms drop to his sides, “Very well, I suppose I have to bring out my secret weapon.” He reaches into his pants pocket, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper, then steps close enough that Barclay can see what’s written.

“The everything bagel recipe” he breathes out, reaching for it. He’s been trying to get that recipe out of the baker at “What Doughs Around, Comes Around” for months

“Yes, the staff at the bagel shop are quite happy to talk about it with someone who is obviously not in the culinary arts. You can have it-” he pulls it quickly back from Barclays hand, hiding it behind him, “-if you tell me what the hell is going on.”

Barclay growls, notices the slight blush spreading on Sterns cheeks when he does. His mind weighs several things at once: his fear of discovery, how much he wants that recipe, Sterns perfect face, the way his pants hug his ass….

How much he’s missed him these last few weeks.

“You fight dirty, agent.” He steps closer. Stern doesn’t budge.

“I’d hardly call offering you something I got you as a gift anyway fighting dirty.”

Barclay grins, “you’re right, it isn’t. But this is.” He wraps his arms around Stern, hoisting him over his shoulder. It’s not graceful, given that Stern is nearly his height, but he manages. God, it’s the first time he’s touched him and he wants to never, ever let him go. 

“What the hell?” Stern sounds amused rather than upset as Barclay turns and deposits him on the counter, boxing him in with his hands. 

“Element of surprise, babe. Now lemme just take that off..your..hands?”

The paper is nowhere to be seen, and it isn’t on the floor either. 

“Aubrey’s been teaching me sleight of hand.” Stern folds his hands in his lap, resting his head against the cabinets. 

Barclay leans forward, prepared to whisper some playful, toothless threat in his ear. And promptly hisses at the same time Sterns eyes widen.

“Oh, Barclay.” Stern murmurs with fond exasperation, looking at where Barclay’s half-hard cock presses to his leg, “is that what this is all about?”

Barclay’s learned many things in his life. One of them is to, when someone gives you a way to be truthful while also hiding a bigger, scarier truth, take it.

“Yeah.” He grinds against Sterns leg again, “you got me.”

Stern lifts one hand, cupping Barclays cheek and stroking his beard, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I...I was scared, I guess. Thought you might not like me back.”

“I'm that bad a flirting, huh?” 

“Wait, you were flirting?” Barclay teases, and Stern rolls his eyes. Then he abruptly opens his legs, causing Barclay to tip forward and bump their noses together.

“Sorry, didn’t realize I was putting that much weight on you.” 

Stern kisses him, teasing his lips with his tongue before pulling back. 

“Do you want to fuck me, Barclay?”

Barclay blinks, then laughs and shakes his head, “And here I was about to ask if you, like, wanted to take it slow.”

“We can, if that’s what you need.” He pets Barclays hair, rest his left hand atop Barclays right on the counter. 

“All I need is you, babe.”

Stern arches an eyebrow, “smooth.” 

“Shut up.” Barclay kisses his cheek, nuzzling him as he laughs, the noise bright and welcome in the quiet kitchen. 

“Shit, hang on, lemme run to my room and get a condom.”

“No need, I went out this evening and always keep one on me just in case..” Stern reaches into his pocket, producing a foil packet.

“What else are you keeping there?’ Barclay undoes the other mans belt, pulls down his zipper, Stern lifting his hips to help Barclay pull his slacks down slightly.

“State secrets.” Stern kisses his neck as he gets Barclays pants open, shifting his clothing just enough for his cock to spring free.

“Holy shit.” He draws a finger along it curiously, Barclay moaning softly as he does, “I see that everything is proportional.”

“Think you can take it?” Barclay rumbles, nudging his cock against Sterns hand. 

“I’m always up for a challenge.”

Barclay groans, rolls the condom on in a hurry. But when he moves to do what he’s been dreaming of for months, Stern puts a hand on his chest, stilling him.

“That is, if you can earn it.”

“Earn?” Barclay breathes out.

“Fucking me is a privilege, Barclay. You have to show me just how much you want it.”

“How s-should I show you?” His heart is in a martini shaker at this point, and his hands won’t stay still. 

The imperious look on Sterns face disappears as soon as Barclay stammers. 

“I, I’m sorry, I should have asked before talking like that, I’ll stop-”

“Don’t, please don’t, I, this is” he takes a deep inhale to gather himself, “no one’s ever talked to me like that before. I really, really like it, kinda startled me how much I do.”

“Should I keep going?”

“Please.” It’s plaintive, in a voice he’s never heard from his own throat.

“And you promise you’ll tell me to stop if I need to?”

Barclay nods. Stern rolls his shoulders back, shutting his eyes. When he opens them again, his gaze is pure steel.

“Then you’d better show me that you want it.”

“How?” It’s like every nerve in his body is poised, waiting for Sterns command. 

“What a silly question. How should I know the way you can best express your emotions?”

Barclay half growls, half whines, grabbing Sterns head with both hands and kissing him as hard as he can. Stern moans against his mouth, gripping the front of his shirt as he opens his lips. He tangles his fingers in his hair when their tongues meet, pouring every ounce of desire into his movements.

When he finally pulls away with a gasp, Stern “tsks.”

“Look at what you’ve done to my slacks.”

Lube is streaked along the black, carefully ironed fabric. 

“I, I’ll clean them for you, iron them too.”

Stern raises an eyebrow, unamused.

“I’ll, uh, buy you new ones, do all your laundry for months, clean it with my fucking tongue, god, please, _please_.” The words spill out, and he drops his eyes as he searches for something else to appease Stern, to make him happy. He’s never been this embarrassingly turned on in his life.

Stern cups his chin, forcing him to look up.

“Please, what?” He chides, gently. 

“Please let me fuck you.” He whimpers.

Stern wraps the fingers of one hand around his cock, places the other on the small of Barclays back and pushes him forward.

“_Fuck_” Stern is warm and welcoming around him, and rests his chin on his shoulder so he can kiss his neck as he pushes all the way in. He allows himself a moment of smugness when Stern has to open his legs a bit wider to accommodate him. 

“Oh lord.” 

“What do think, agent” he works his hips slowly “can you take it?”

“Don’t get cocky” Stern snickers at his bad pun, “if you forget who’s in charge, you won’t get what you want.”

The edge in his voice makes Barclay put on his best puppy dog eyes, nuzzling and kissing Stern wherever he can manage, appeasing, pleading noises working their way from his throat.

“I wanna see more of you.” His hands go to the top button of Stern's vest, only to be slapped away.

"Fuck me well enough and I may just let you. Some other time.”

Barclay growls again, digs his fingers into Sterns hair, the gelled strands tearing loose as he pulls him into a mercilessly demanding kiss. The smirk against his lips suggests he’s on the right track, and so he thrusts rapidly pounding into Stern as hard as he dares.

“Ohhhhhhhyes,” Sterns hands fly to his hair, pulling him in for kiss after kiss, barely allowing him space to breathe. The heels of his dress shoes dig into Barclays thighs, urging him on.

“Fuck, babe, you feel so fucking good.”

“So do you.” One hand drops down, Stern rubbing his dick urgently, “mmmmm, so very good.” 

He moans louder than he means to as he watches Sterns fingers, trying to burn how they press, how they move, so he can please him the same way later. Repeats the noise, though it’s muffled halfway by another kiss, at the sight of his cock fucking Stern open.

“You like to watch, don’t you?” Stern whispers in his ear.

“Uh huh.” He pants, meets Sterns eyes hoping it’s the right answer, and earns a peck on the cheek.

“I figured you would be, given how often I could feel you watching me when we were together.” He tugs Barclays hair. 

“Nnnh! God, fuck babe, yes.”

“What, ohshit, what would you rather watch; your cock, or my face when I come?”

“Your face, fuck, Joseph, please, wanna see you, wanna look at you, you’re so fucking hot, I, I thought I was gonna lose my goddamn mind not seeing you the last few weeks.”

There’s a hollow “thunk” as the back of Sterns head falls against the cabinets, his mouth open in a soft moan as he tightens around Barclay. The cook surges forward to kiss his throat, catches the last of his orgasmic sounds in his mouth. 

As he rests their foreheads together Stern murmurs, “ keep going” and so he does, fucking him frantically, hard enough to rattle the drawers.

“That’s it, I want you to watch that absurd appendage of yours fuck me until you _break_, you desperate, needy mess.” He sneers lovingly and that does it, Barclay coming in a series of slow, long thrusts as it pulses through him. Gasping and more than a little wobbly on his feet, he pulls out and rests his chin on Sterns shoulder, the other man nuzzling his ear and kissing his cheek. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, uh, just, just need a minute. Wore me out.” He steps backward enough to pull off the condom and re-do his pants, Stern shifting on the counter as he pulls his own back up. When Barclay looks back at him, he snorts out a laugh.

“Just how much flour did you get on me?” Stern says dryly.

“Half the fucking bag.” Barclay covers his mouth, now shaking with giggles, as Stern takes in the floury prints on his vest and slacks, runs his hand along his cheek and hair to assess the damage and promptly gets more flour on them in the process. 

“You’re no better” He hops off the counter, trying to wipe the flour from Barclays forehead and cheek. He leans into the touch and gentle, protective smile moves across Sterns face.

“I’m glad we got that sorted out.” He pulls the recipe from his back pocket, handing it to Barclay. 

“Me too.”

“Would you like me to stay and help you?”

“Help me-”

“You were clearly prepping dough when I came in, and lord knows that chunk of the counter needs to be thoroughly cleaned.” He points to mess of flour, full of clothing-prints and hand prints. 

“You really wanna stay and clean? It’s gotta be after midnight.”

“You know cleaning soothes me.” Stern rolls up his sleeves, “besides, it’s never too late to keep you company.”

Barclay melts a little, kisses the top of his head, “Alright babe, lemme get you the cleaning stuff and we can get to work.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------  
How much trouble can someone get in for cutting the power to an apartment? Because Duck is running out of ideas. 

His downstairs neighbor is, unsurprisingly, having a raging homecoming party, shaking Ducks floor so badly that Winnie has gone into hiding. 

Before he does something illegal, maybe he should see if it’s less noisy in Indrid’s apartment. They haven’t spoken since the incident at work, but Duck is more than ready to apologize for being a dick. Again. 

As he steps into the hall and starts down the stairs, he spies Indrid coming up from the first floor. The taller man freezes when he sees him, nervous.

Duck smiles, waves, and Indrid relaxes, waves back as Duck descends to meet him. 

“I take it the noise is no better at your place?”

“Nope. Was comin down to see if you were better off.”

“Sadly, no. All I wanted was some peace and quiet.” He glares at the door of the offending apartment. 

Duck snaps his fingers, “Hey, I got an idea. Know a spot in town where no one’ll be this time of night. Grab a sweater and follow me.”

Soon enough, they’re walking through the arboretum on the edge of campus, no sounds save for nighttime creatures and the distant cheers of downtown partiers. 

“This is lovely. I’ve only come down here during the day to draw.”

“Yeah, one of my favorite places in town. C’mon, I even know where we can find the best spot to sit for a bit. Uh, if you want.”

Indrid nods, glasses reflecting the moonlight at odd angles, and follows Duck into a grove of redwoods. He plops down onto the bench, hidden back within the trees, and Indrid sits beside him. There’s space between them. Barely. 

Indrid sighs, “Thank you for this. I thought I was going to lose my mind from the unrelenting noise.”

“Not a big party fan, huh?”

“Not of frat parties and the like, no. I get overstimulated easily because, well, because of a few different things. Makes this whole weekend a bit of a nightmare. I barely go outside, town is so crowded.” Indrid follows a bat as it darts above the tree.

“Hey, 'Drid?”

“Yes, Duck?”

“I’m sorry for bein short with you at work. Ain’t got the best track record with that manager, and I’m kinda worried about gettin canned. Shouldn’t have been shitty to you.”

Indrid glances sideways at him, “Thank you for apologizing. I know we’ve both been trying to bicker less. But I suppose it was naive to think there wouldn’t be backsliding.”

Duck nods, looks up at the stars. He wants to find the words for how he’s feeling, wants a way to let Indrid know how much he’s starting to like him, how much he wishes they saw more of each other, how frustrated he is with himself that there weird, occasionally enemies thing won’t go away. 

What he gets is Ned’s words bouncing around his brain like a dog demanding attention.

He looks back at Indrid, who’s taking in their surroundings with a serene expression, pale hair and sharp features alien and appealing in the moonlight.

“You, uh, wanna make out?”

Indrids head snaps to regard him.

“I...what?”  
“Do you wanna make, uh, fuck, nevermind.”

“Nono” Indrid puts a hand on his knee, “sorry, you surprised me is all. I, where is this coming from?”

Duck shrugs, cheeks burning under Indrids curiosity, mumbles “Just thought maybe some of the weird shit goin on between us is because there’s somethin we both want that we ain’t expressin.”

“And you think kissing will help?”

“Uh, yeah, shit, fuck, forget I said anythin, gonna kill Ned the next time I see him-”

“I wouldn’t mind trying.” Indrid turns towards him fully.

“Wha-uh, shit, yeah, okay.” He leans forward hurriedly before he says anything to further make him sound like nervous teenager, causing them to clonk their heads together.

“Ouch, goodness, sorry” Indrid tries to adjust, catching Duck with his glasses

“Ah, Jesus, here, lemme just-”

“-what if I-”

“Get in my lap?” 

Indrid grins, straddling him and cupping his face to kiss him eagerly and _oh_, yeah, that’s way better. He wraps his arms around Indrids waist, trails his hands along the wool of his sweater. Huffs a laugh when Indrid wiggles under his touch and suddenly it’s not enough, he needs him closer, harder, needs him more.

Unfortunately, they reach this feeling at the same time, and in the surge to get more, lose their balance, Duck falling backwards and sending them both off the bench. 

“Ow.” Mutters Duck.

“Ouch.” Indrid says from on top of him. 

They look at each other for a beat. And then they burst into laughter, Indrid pressing his face into Ducks chest as he shudders with giggles, Ducks guffaws ricocheting from tree to tree.

“Goddamn, maybe we’re cursed or some shit and the universe is tryin to make us get the hint.”

“It’s possible.” Indrid wipes a tear away, snickers again before turning thoughtful, “or it’s possible we have the right idea, but it’s not the right time.”

Duck brushes a strand of hair back behind Indrids ear, “Gotta say, like your version better.”

Indrid smiles, then sits up with a shiver, “Apologies, but I’m starting to be rather chilled.” He stands, helps Duck to his feet. 

“C’mon, ‘Drid, let’s get you home. If they’re still makin a ruckus, can watch a movie or somethin until they stop.”

“An excellent plan.” 

They turn and head back towards the lights of town, arm in arm.


	7. Give You a Thrill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween hits Kepler. Indrid gets a weird feeling. Duck gives a gift.

“Trick or treat!”

Dani smiles, fake fangs and all, as she tosses candy into the waiting bags. Once the kids hurry away, she shuts the door and settles back between Aubreys legs on the floor. 

They’re all gathered in Barclays house, Mama closing the lodge early on Halloween since it’s a slow night. They’ve lit the little path back to the cottage with pumpkin-shaped lights, Indrid making big, red-lettered signs alerting people that candy can be found at the end of the path. On the T.V, Ned is introducing the next feature on Saturday Night Dead, having been given a whole evening to do his program since it fits the holiday.

Mama sits in chairs at the back wall, heckling the films and eating from one of the several dozens trays of snacks Barclay made. Jake flops on the floor, trying to get Dr Harris Bonkers to stay in his vampire cape. Barclay sits on the couch next to Aubrey, Stern curled up in his lap. Her friend looks happier than he’s been in months, but she really, really hopes he’ll take her advice and never, ever tell Stern the whole truth about his past.

Indrid is seated in the armchair, sketching and watching the screen in equal measure. He suddenly perks up, and the front door swings open.

“Guess who’re officially park rangers!” Juno strides in triumphantly, Duck following along behind.

“Hell yeah!” Aubrey cheers, high-fiving Juno as she walks by.

“Well, we’re more like ranger interns, kinda. But we're gettin paid.” Duck shrugs off his jacket, sits on the arm of Indrids chair without so much as looking for a different seat.

“Glad Thacker had the good sense to hire you both.” Mama beams at them. 

“Lemme grab you some drinks. Usual?” Barclay asks, and both Juno and Duck nod. Stern jumps off the couch to follow him. 

As the title card for “The Maneater of Hydra” shows on the screen, Aubrey nudges Dani so she looks towards the armchair.

Duck is now in the seat, Indrid half in his lap and holding a plate of treats they’re both grabbing from.

“I freaking knew it.” Aubrey whispers.

“I mean, it’s progress. But I don’t think it means what we think it means."

“He's in his _lap_.”

“Yeah, but they’re not otherwise cuddling, they’re not making cutesy faces at each other, they're not kissing every two seconds.”

“Sooo, they’re not acting like Stern and Barclay?”

“Exactly. They’re comfortable together, but I don’t think they’re….”

“Doing it?” 

“Bingo.”

Aubrey nestles closer, fingernail trailing along Dani's neck and giving her goosebumps, “They’ll get there. Eventually.”

“I admire your confidence, firebug.”  
\-------------------------------------------------  
Indrid is getting ready for bed, pleasantly tired from the night spent with his friends. Duck stayed close to him throughout the party, kept cracking jokes about the movies making flirty comments, touching Indrid in a friendly way, and Indrid is so deep in the well of his crush he can see the stars.

Branches scratch at his window and he jumps, regarding the blinds with suspicion. The movies Ned chooses are usually too awful to be scary, but one had been creepy enough that Barclay had switched on the lights until it was over. 

The branches scratch again and he takes a deep breath. There’s no need to be worried. 

Another scratch.

Wait a moment.

There are no trees near his bedroom window. No shrubs or tall plants either. 

_Screeatch._

He tries to focus on his visions, but they’re resetting too fast, like some major factor hasn’t fallen into place, and all he can see is that something out there, but whether it’s a bird or a cat or kid playing a joke or something that wants to tear him to shreds isn’t clear. 

Panic races through his system, and for a moment he toys with opening the blinds, ending the mystery.

_Screeeatch_

He bolts out the front door and up the stairs, deeply grateful that they’re enclosed within the safety of the building. It’s only when he’s knocking on Ducks door that he sees most of the futures involve Duck not answering or being annoyed when he does. 

Darn it

The door swings open, Duck peering out at him.

“‘Drid? Everythin okay?”

Indrid shakes his head, worry flashing on Ducks face. The shorter man takes his hand, and gently pulls him inside.   
\-----------------------------------  
Duck should probably check before opening the door at 1:30 in the morning. But in his experience, if someone is banging on his door at that time it’s either because a fire is happening or one of his friends in need of help. 

Indrid only looks slightly less petrified on Ducks couch than he did in the hall.

“That _Blue Sunshine_ one give you the heebie-jeebies too?” 

Indrid nods, “Yes, uh...yes.”

“You want water or somethin?"

“No, thank you.” He takes a deep breath, but it comes out shaky. "It’s not just the movie.” He says softly

Duck sits down next to him, rubs a hand up and down his back.

“It’s, there’s, there was something outside my apartment, Duck. I, I don't know what, and I don't know, maybe I imagined it. It’s so hard sometimes, I feel like I can’t see anything well enough to make sense of it. And then I run to you like some sort of frightened child. God, this is humiliating.” He rests his head in his hands, pushing his glasses up so he can rub his eyes. Duck isn’t sure what he means by half of what he said, but he knows his friend is upset, and that he wants him to feel safe.

“‘Drid, ain’t nothin wrong with gettin spooked by somethin. Especially on a day when everything is about bein scary and shit.”

“I know. I simply feel silly. Scared and silly.”

“Meow?”

“AH!” Both of them yelp when Winnie jumps onto the couch. Indrid clutches Duck with both hands, doesn’t let go even as he smiles and coos at the cat.

“See? Kind of night when even this furball seems scary.”

“Seems? I’ve had to bathe her remember?”

Duck chuckles, “True, you know the demon lurkin under all that fuzz.” He scritches Winnies head as she kneads his leg. 

Indrid is still holding onto him. 

“You, uh, wanna watch cartoons or somethin? Might help us both calm down.”

“Yes. If it won’t trouble you to have me here”

“Not a bit. You okay watchin on the bed? Bit warmer in there.” He helps Indrid off the couch

As they head past the kitchen, Duck remembers something.

“Oh, hey, got you a thing. Meant to bring it with me today and forgot.” He grabs a small cube from the counter, hands it to Indrid as he leans against the door frame. 

“It’s a fidget cube. Aubrey mentioned they helped her a lot when she was still takin classes. See” he rests one hand below Indrids, uses the other to demonstrate, “you can push the buttons and spin stuff and it don’t make any noise. Thought you might get some use outta it in class.”

Indrid looks at the item, then at Duck, frowning.

“I see. So this is so I won’t aggravate you with my pen anymore. How thoughtful.”

Duck wants to snap that he’d thought Indrid would be grateful to have a way to keep people from being annoyed with him. 

But that’s a lie, and he can’t even bring himself to make a show of saying it. 

“No. I got it because I wanted to do something sweet for you.” He presses the toy into Indrids hand, closing it and continuing to hold it.

Indrid takes a half-step closer, expression going shy.

“Please, darlin, won’t you let me be sweet to you?” He whispers, lifting his gaze to meet those red lenses.

Indrid bites his lip, then leans down. It’s barely a kiss, but it’s certainly an answer. He pulls up, blushing.

“You actually called me darling.” It’s a more awe-filled reaction than he was expecting a pet name to receive.

“Yeah. You like it?” 

Indrid makes a strangled squeaking sound, blushing harder. 

“You do.” Duck kisses a line down his jaw “You like the idea of bein my darlin. Lucky for you” he wraps his arms around Indrids waist, pulls them against each other, “I like it too.”

“Oh, oh Duck.” Indrid sighs, gripping the shoulders of his shirt, frantically peppering his face with kisses. 

“You’re shakin, darlin.”

“Neeeuhhuh.”

“Aw, you make such cute sounds when you’re gettin all flustered.” He tugs his ear lightly with his teeth, “You gonna make it to the bed?”

“I’m not sure I could make it another step.”

“In that case…” Duck eases them down to the floor, rests his hand on the back of Indrids head as he guides him backwards. Then climbs onto him, straddling his hips. Indrid is still looking a bit deer-in-headlights, and Duck can’t stand the thought of taking things the wrong direction.

“This really okay? You need me to back off?”

“NO!” Indrids emphatic reply startles them both. He grins sheepishly, taking Ducks hands, “I, I, want this, I want you so much.”

“‘M right here.” He bends down and this time the kiss lingers; he takes his time, kisses the curves of Indrids lips, pecks the corners, teases in with his tongue when Indrid parts them with a gasp. Cool hands sneak beneath his shirt and he sighs, rubbing their cheeks together.

“‘’M right here” he repeats and Indrids fingertips press into his skin, “and I’m gonna take such good care of you, darlin, make you feel so nice.” He trails kiss after kiss down his neck, then along the line of Indrids collarbone, still noticeable through his sweater, “Been thinkin about this for months, dreamin up ways I could make you sigh, get that sweet smile onto your face. Yeah” he grins “that’s the one.”

“You’ve really-”

“Can’t lie for shit, ‘Drid, you know that.”

“I” Indrid’s fingers are playing along his sides now, making his skin prickle in the best way, gentle pleasure snaking through his limbs at his touch, “I’ve been dreaming about it too, even before that night in the trees. Kissing you, touching you, OH!, oh please do that again.”

Duck kisses him, harder than before, and continues carding his fingers through that silver hair. Indrid wiggles his hips, whimpering happily.

“Gonna take such good care of you, darlin. You’re already gettin melty under my hands, what’re you gonna do when I really turn on the charm?” He teases, lightly running the nails of his free hand up Indrids side.

“Die.” Indrid deadpans, whimpering when Duck kisses him again and slides his tongue into his mouth. 

“Yeah, a 'little death' maybe.”

“Very funnYeee!” Indrid arches off the ground when Duck grinds along the outline of his cock.

“Want me to do that again?”

“I-if you do, this is going to be a very short tryst.”

“That wound up, huh?” He grinds down again, moaning at the sensation of wet, rough fabric on his dick and, below it, the tantalizing firmness of Indrids own. 

“Duck” Indrid is panting, on the last threads of his composure, “I haven’t had a partner in over a year, I’ve been craving your touch, and now I have you, in all your perfect, aggravating, enticing glory, offering to ride my cock. It’s a miracle I’m not just a babbling mess.”

“Not sure this counts as ridin.” He muses as he ruts more purposefully.

“Duuuuck” Indird whines, pressing his cock up to meet him. One hand squeezing his side while the other tugs at the bottom of his shirt.

“Yeah, darlin?”

“Come down here, please.”

Duck doesn’t hesitate, drops down to kiss him over and over, moaning whenever Indrid bites and tugs at his lip. He’s lost all sense of finesse, everything narrowing down to the way Indrids cock feels, the pressure and drag of Indrids movements meeting his own, the fluttery, desperate groans and sighs that are better than anything he imagined. 

“Duck, sweetheart, please, oh please just a little more” 

“You got it.” He puts more weight behind his thrusts, pinning one of Indrids hands to the ground. The other is glued to his hip, tightening it’s grip as Indrid drives his hips up over and over again. Indrid comes as he’s kissing him, Duck’s name spilling out just as damp spreads across the front of his pajama pants.

“Jesus _christ_” Duck sits up, still straddling Indrids legs, shoving his hand down his boxers and three fingers up into himself. He’s soaked, his dick hard as he rubs it against his palm. He squeezes his eyes shut in concentration, Indrid shifting beneath him. The hand stays on his hip, but the other circles around his waist, tentatively.

“Would you like me to do that?” The voice in his ear tells him Indrid has sat up.

“Nuh uh, I’m, I’m real fuckin close, like doin this while you watch, turns me on, fuck”

“May I keep kissing you?”

He opens his eyes. Their faces are close, and he can see Indrids eyes behind his glasses; they’re adoring, looking at Duck like he did something more spectacular than hump him on the kitchen floor.

“Go for it, darlin.” 

Indrid kisses him greedily, now pulling him as close as they can be while still letting Duck move his hand. Indrid pauses his kissing to lick a stripe up his neck.

“Can bite me too, if you want.”

“Oh_ yes_.”

“Oh FUCK” Duck tips his head back, Indrids hand shooting up his spine to support it as he sucks a hickey into his pulse point. Indrid growls playfully, bites him on the shoulder, scraping his teeth down his skin to leave a trio of bruises on his neckline. 

“That’s it darlin, fuck, fuck that feels good, shit_shit_, ‘Drid, don’t stop, ah fuck right there, yeah ohhhhshit yeah.” He groans, coming on his hand as Indrid bites and licks at any skin he can reach. Duck’s muscles turn to jelly all at once and he flops into Indrids lap, the other man embracing him with a laugh.

“That, uh, that wasn’t quite as romantic as I planned it in my head.”

“It was perfect.” Indrid kisses his cheek, sighing contentedly. 

“Still prefer to give it another try in the mornin. If, uh, if you want.”

“Yes” Indrid cuddles him closer, “so much.” He’s humming happily and Duck’s never heard a sweeter post-sex sound. 

“....Do you have pants I can borrow?”

“Yep. Even give you the fleece lined ones my aunt gave me last year.”

“Oooooh!”

They disentangle, Indrid helping him off the floor. It doesn’t take much coaxing for him to agree to join Duck in the shower (in fact, all Duck has to do is suggest it with his most ‘come-here’ smile). They don’t fuck, but they take ample breaks to make out under the warm water, and Indrid lets Duck wash him, purring and humming and sighing as Duck glides the loofah and his hands along the planes of his body. 

Dried off and bundled up in bed (“you got a spoon preference?” “I’m partial to being the little one”), Duck switches off the light, kissing Indrid on the back of the neck as he nestles into the pillow. 

“Shit, wait, you want me to leave it on? Might help if you’re still feelin jumpy.”

Indrid looks over his shoulder, eyes unobscured by his glasses and shining with affection in the dark room, “No, thank you. I’m too pleasantly exhausted to be frightened, and you always make me feel safe.”

Duck holds him tighter at that, suddenly feeling like he’s been given an immense but very welcome responsibility. 

“Okay, well, you need anythin lemme know. And don’t you worry none about things that go 'bump' in the night, ‘Drid; I’m right here.”


	8. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck makes good on his word. Indrid makes some noise.

Duck wakes up ten seconds before his alarm, shutting it off before it has a chance to startle his bedmate. Indrid is curled on his side, facing Duck, looking unfairly charming in the dim fall light. Winnie is asleep on Indrids feet, tail twitching in a dream. 

It has no right, this dingy bedroom on the “run-down” side of town on a grim November morning, to feel like heaven. But he doesn’t have another word for it. 

He slides out from the covers, pads into the kitchen to start coffee. There’s a “tump” as Winnie jumps off and follows him, raspmeowing for breakfast.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I don’t ever feed you.” He shakes out her food, then makes a break for the bedroom while she’s distracted, shutting the door before she can spot the trick.

“Duck?” Indrid lifts his head, blinking blearily. His glasses are off, and Duck can see the dark circles under his eyes, feels a pang when he remembers how often Indrid is up all night with work or school or, he hazards a guess, worry.

“In the flesh, darlin. You sleep okay?”

“Yes. Do I, should I-do you have work and need me to go?”

“Nope, don’t gotta go until two. You got somewhere you need to be?”

“No.” He’s shaking a little again, eyes darting towards his glasses. 

Duck sits on the bed, taking care to give Indrid space, “‘Drid, you don’t gotta stay. I won’t be offended or nothin, just wanted you to know you could.”

“I do. I want, what you said last night, do you still want that?”

“You mean tryin to fuck you real romantic?”

A blush zips up tan cheeks, “Yes

“Hell yeah."

“Then” Indrid seems to find his confidence in a moment of gazing into the distance past Ducks shoulder, smile going teasing, “perhaps you should get to it.”

Indrid flips the sheets aside as Duck crawls towards him, straddles his legs and starts easing his shirt up. 

“You sure you’re up for it? Last night you damn near fainted just from me kissing you.”

“I assure you, I am tougher than I look. Do your worst, you flirtatious scourge.” He pulls his shirt off, flops back down.

“Careful what you ask fo-have those always been pierced?”

Indrid has a small, silver bar through each of his nipples and, in spite of being grafts, Ducks own twitch in sympathy at the thought of how they got there. 

“Yes. I got them a few years back. I think you were too busy staring at my ass the last time I had my shirt off to notice.”

“I wasn’t, uh, fuck, starin, was, uh, admirin, yeah, okay, you got me.” He slips his hands under Indrids ass, squeezing, “couldn’t stop thinkin about bendin you over the sink.”

It’s probably weird to ask if he can touch them, right? Even though they’re in bed?

“You can touch them.” Indrid smiles, knowingly. 

Duck can’t say where the urge comes from, only that the next thing he knows, he’s curling forward to draw his tongue along the right bar. Indrid moans, high and breathy, pushing his chest up encouragingly. 

“I love the sounds you make, darlin. You’re so fuckin fun to touch. Fun to tease” he flicks the bar with his tongue this time. Keeps licking and sucking at it, bringing his left hand up to play with the other. Indrid is already panting, yelps when Duck takes one end of the bar between his teeth and tugs.

“Shit!” One hand whaps the headboard, the other rests in Ducks hair. 

“Oooh, you swore, I’m tellin.” Duck does it again, growling.

“Telling who?” Indrid giggles and sighs at once when Duck kisses the tender skin, shifting his attention to the left bar. 

“Everyone. Gonna tell everyone that you swear, that you got the nicest lookin body, that I ain’t ever met anyone who looks as handsome as you do when you smile.”

“Mrrhhhphm” Indrid covers his face with both hands, blushing all down his neck.

“Gonna tell everyone that I was a fuckin knucklehead bein rude to you all those times” he’s kissing his whole chest now, licking at the piercings whenever the mood strikes him, “I shoulda been bein sweet, shoulda gotten on my damn knees so I could kiss these long legs.” He taps one of Indrids thighs fondly, grabs one of his hands and Indrid lets him pull it away from his face, “not gonna waste anymore time, darlin” he kisses the back of his hand, “gonna find every goddamn way to make you moan.”

“Duck, please.” Indrids pulse is a butterfly under his fingers as he kisses up his arm.

“Please?”

“Kiss me?” It’s so happy, so hopeful, and Duck shifts rapidly to kiss those chapped lips, pulling Indrid into an embrace, wiry limbs wrapping around his shoulders and legs. The way he sees it, he has a lot of being rude to make up for, a lot of kisses he ought to have given instead, and so he only breaks away when his vision goes hazy, Indrid allowing him a breath or two before pulling him back. 

The next time he pulls back, Indrid smirks before attacking the side of his neck he didn’t leave hickeys on the night before. It’s a heady feeling, the flashes of pain with pleasure on it’s heels, the way Indrid laughs against his skin whenever he moans, the way he’s thrusting against Duck like his life depends on it.

Wait a second.

“Oh no you don’t” Duck pulls back and away, kneeling at Indrids feet. Indrid offers a full-throated groan in response.

“I ain’t gotten a chance to love on your lower half.”

“What does that meEEp!” Duck yanks his pajama pants down and off, tossing them over his shoulder. Lifts Indrids left leg and kisses his way up the inside, nipping with his teeth but never putting any force behind it. Drops it back to bed so he can kiss the inner thigh. When he gets close to Indrids cock, he puffs a small breath on it.

“Ah! Don’t you tease me Duck NewtonAH!” Duck flicks the tip of his tongue out, barely grazing the shaft.

Then he sits back up, and starts on the right leg.

“Don’t worry darlin, I’ll get there. Eventually. Maybe” He grins and Indrid, eyes shut and moaning loud, flips him the bird.

“Rude.” He bites down and Indrid squeaks. 

By the time he reaches his inner thigh again, Indrid is nearly boneless under him, having surrendered to his touch, little whines and repetitions of Ducks name filling the air. 

“Never seen you this relaxed.” He rests his chin on Indrids hip.

“I’ve never been quite so thoroughly, uh, seen to. Oh, Duck” cool fingers stroke his cheek. 

“You ain’t seen nothin yet.” He rolls awkwardly until he can reach the bedside table, roots around until he finds his condom stash, and rolls back.

“Want me to suck your dick?”

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

Duck rolls down the condom, settles on his stomach. Indrid is up on his elbows, watching him breathlessly. 

He drags his tongue up in one, long stripe. Does it again because the way Indrids eyes widen at the sight is too fucking funny to resist. Keeps his eyes on Indrids when he takes the head into his mouth.

“Goodness.” He’s stroking his cheek again, and Duck takes the hand, moves it up to his hair. He likes the sensation, likes the way it makes him feel held. Rather than trying to pull or control him with it, Indrid is patting and petting.

“That’s s-so good, sweetheart, oh, oh yes, oh your tongue feels divine.” 

He sucks harder, takes as much as he can and closes his hand around the rest, pumping in time with the motions of his head. Closes his eyes to concentrate, hears the “thwump” as Indrid falls back onto the pillows. Indrid is thrusting now and then, very gently, into his mouth, and his moans are getting erratic. 

Duck pulls off, teasingly licking the head.

“God, please don;t stop, I’m so close, so close, please.” Indrids hands are now digging into the pillow by his head.

“Ain’t stoppin” another swirl of his tongue as he works his hand faster, “just wanted to see you better when you come from this. Plus I like watchin you fuck my hand.” 

“Yes, yesyes, oh Duck, sweetheart, that feels so lovely, you’re so _good_, you’re amazing, incredible.”

“So are you. Darlin.” 

Indrid comes at the pet name, thrusting all the way into his fist with a cry. Duck leans over to kiss his stomach, nuzzling just above his bellybutton. 

“Duck…”

“Yeah?”

“You’re wearing too much clothing.”

“Tsk” Duck sits up, taking off his shirt, “so demandin.”

“Not demanding” Indrid mock huffs, “I’m naked and you’re not. I’m simply evening things up.” 

Duck finishes getting out of his pants, kicking them onto the ground and tossing the condom towards his trash. Indrid takes his hand when he lays next to him , kissing the inside of his wrist.

“Y’know, you get real flowery when you’re close to comin.”

“Maybe you bring out my poetic side.” Indirds gaze is hungry, like he wants to eat Duck alive. 

“Makin me wonder what else you can do with that tongue of yours.”

“Care to have a seat and see?” He purrs.

“Hell yeah.” Duck sits up in a hurry, knees bracketing Indrids head. 

“Perfect” Indrid sighs, running his hands up Ducks thighs and along his ass.

“You need to ease into it or-AHoooohokay, jesusfuckingCHRIST ‘Drid.” Indrid yanks Duck down against his mouth, tongue circling and swiping and pressing expertly. Better yet, Indrid is moaning loudly as he does it, mouth hot and insistent against Ducks skin.

For a few minutes all he can do is brace his hands on the top of the headboard, watching as Indrids face creases in delight, his pale hair a mess against the pillows. 

And then he gets wicked idea. 

Gingerly, so he doesn’t lose his balance, he reaches back to find one of Indrids nipple piercings. Takes the ends between his fingertips. And tugs 

Indrid keens, jolting so strongly he nearly knocks Duck off of him. Duck’s about to get off and apologize when Indrid’s grip tightens and he feels him trying to somehow pull him closer.

“You kinky little-” He tugs again and Indrid moans wantonly, trying to fuck Duck with his tongue. When that fails, his lips close around his dick and suck lovingly. 

“Yeah, that’s it darlin, that’s it, suck my dick.” he pulls at the piercing again and keep toying with it, not giving him a chance to recover and Indrid screams in delight against his skin, nails digging into the meat of his ass. 

A quick glance shows Indrid is thrusting uselessly into the air. Duck tangles his free hand in Indrids hair to force him closer as the other keeps playing with this nipples. He ruts greedily against his mouth and face, the muffled moans and whines and whimpers as Indrid twitches under him feeding something deep down in his gut.

“C’mon, ‘Drid, just a little more, lemme fuck that sweet face just a little more, oh shit, darlin, ohfuckohfuck, _yes_.” He comes hard, releasing Indrids head. The man beneath him stops sucking or licking, switches to gentle kisses and sounds which, as Duck sits up and off him, become words.

“...so good, Duck, thank you, did so well, letting me taste your come like a good boy.”

_Shit_ why is that turning him on so much? Wasn’t he the one in charge just then?

He flops onto his back and Indrid immediately nestles against him, head resting beneath his chin humming happily.

“Fuck, ‘Drid, that was amazin.” He kisses the top of his head, “Your, uh, you know, are they sore?”

“Yes, but in a good way. I had no idea you’d like that.”

“My last boyfriend was big into me bein all rough and tough all the time when we fucked. And I mean all the time. Guess some of it’s still hangin around.”

“Do you...like it?” Indrid’s tone is curious as he roams a hand along his chest.

Duck shrugs, “I guess. When I did that just now, it felt real fuckin good, because you were squealin and squirmin and all wound up because of it. Felt like the thing that was right in the moment that made us both feel good. Not like, uh, like I was doing it because I had to prove somethin.”

“Did you have to prove something before?”

“Yeah” He murmurs, “it was part of him needin me to prove I was really a guy, bein aggressive and shit.”

“I see. I’m sorry.” Indrid sounds genuinely upset on his behalf.

“Ain’t your doin.”

“I know” Indrid slides up so their faces are level, “but I’m sorry all the same. And I hope you know you don’t even need to do that for me.”

“Thanks.” This isn’t how he pictured this going; this was supposed to be pillow talk, not here’s-the-baggage-I-keep-under-the-bed talk.

“I mean it” Indrid is stroking his cheek again and he sighs, lets the feeling brush the worry from his body “I want to be with you as you are, Duck. Nothing more, nothing less. That, um, that is, if you want to be with me as something more than one night.” 

Duck kisses him once, gently, “I like that somethin fierce, darlin. You up for some breakfast?”

“In a moment.” Indrid is getting heavy, a welcome weight in Ducks arms. He strokes that silver hair, let’s himself simply relax.

“Oh, and Duck?”

“Yeah, darlin?”

Indrid smiles lovingly at him, “Thank you for my present. It was very sweet of you.”


	9. No Need to be Shy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A double date. An ultimatum. And a weird noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick content note: Indrid briefly references some emotionally abusive behavior from his family (calling him constantly when mad).

“You think they chickened out?” Aubrey swings Dani’s hand as they walk towards the theater. 

“Firebug, the whole reason they asked to do a double date was because they felt weird going out on a date-date by themselves.”

“Gotta say, it’s nice to see Duck dating again.” Aubrey hands their tickets to bored teen at the entrance.

“You’re just happy he won’t steal Dr.Harris Bonkers for hours so he can complain about his break-up/ dating life.”

‘Shhhhhhhh” Aubrey kisses her, then scans the room for the two men. Indrid, looking nicer than usual, waves to her from near the concessions counter as Duck finishes filling his arms with snacks. 

“Think you got enough food?” Dani raises her eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me, look at sweet-tooth over here.” Duck smiles as Indrid grabs his Icee.

“In my defense, you did offer to buy me whatever I wanted.”

“Yeah, cause I like spoilin you.” He elbows Indrid playfully as they head into the theater. They find four seats in the back row, Indrid happily sharing his candy with Aubrey as Dani sneaks the granola she brought out of her purse. 

“I can’t believe you talked me into watchin this” Duck grumbles fondly in Aubrey’s direction.

“Duck, it’s _Blade 4: Blade Harder_! It’s got vampires! Cute girls! Really bad CGI! What more could you want in a movie?”

“....Yeah, okay, you got me.”

They chat about Aubreys new act ideas, Indrid offering to help design and paint some of her equipment, and Ducks ongoing excitement at being a ranger (intern) until the lights dim. 

As the trailer for the fiftieth installation of the Marvel universe rolls, Aubrey notices Indrid turning something over in his hand; a fidget cube.

So, Duck _does_ take her advice sometimes. Good to know. 

She doesn’t pay attention to her friends, or the movie, for long, because Dani tends to get a little handsy during vampire movies. Not like Aubrey minds. Thank god for blockbusters with bloated running times. 

When the credits play, she looks over to find Indrid nearly in Ducks lap, hair decidedly more fluffed and messed up than when they move started. She bounces her eyebrows at Duck, who sticks his tongue out at her. 

They head to the lodge afterwards, grabbing coffee at their usual table. 

“.....So yeah, apparently Jake does a really good rendition of “Piano Man.” Dani sips her latte, resting her head on Aubreys shoulder. Across the room, Stern is sitting at a table with many notes on it. He isn’t looking at any of them. Instead, he’s gazing, starry-eyed, at Barclay. Duck looks over his shoulder, spots the same thing.

“Damn, he really is ga-ga for him.”

“I’d say the feeling is mutual” Indrid taps Duck, pointing to where Barclay has been wiping the same circle on a table for at least a minute, staring longingly at Stern.

“How is anything getting done around here?”

“Honestly, Barclay has more energy than ever. Stern seems really good for him” Dani finishes her drink.

“I dunno, I still think this is gonna end badly.” Aubrey muses, “big secrets have the worst ways of getting out.”  
\----------------------  
Across town, in the darkened Crytonomica Aubrey’s words are proving unfortunately true. 

“I’m runnin out of patience, Edmund.”

“For the last time, I am not relieving my good friends of their valuables.”

“Valuables he says, as if we aren’t talkin about the kind of score that could see us sittin pretty and get our records clear.”

“Boyd, I can’t do this, they’re practically children for gods sake-”

“Listen to me carefully, _Ned_” The last word is a snarl, “Your time is gonna run out very, very soon. And when it does, I can guarantee I’ll leave you to take the fall this time.”  
\----------------------------------------------  
“Ugggghh” Indrid looks at his phone, only now switching it on after shutting it down for the movie. 

“Your folks call again while we were out?” 

“Indeed.” He holds the phone up so Duck can see the screen, full of missed call notifications. 

“You sure you don’t need to call ‘em? Seems like that many might mean somethin is wrong.” 

“Oh no” Indrid tosses the phone onto the couch and turns his back on it “this is quite standard for them. Ever since I dropped out of the business program when I was 18, once every few months I get a phone call. And every few months, I’ll answer, even though I can see what’s coming when I do.”

Duck finishes kicking of his shoes and shucking his jacket, opens his arms and Indrid steps into them. He rubs his back gently, listening as he continues.

“They’ll say that if I move back, start up as an econ major or something like that they’ll start paying my tuition, my living expenses, be oh so proud of me. And every time I tell them no. And they yell, and I hang up, and then they deluge my phone for the next few days.”

“Jesus, ‘Drid, that’s awful.”

“One gets used to it. Just as one gets used to being the family disappointment.”

“They ain’t got the good sense to see you for what you are, that’s their fuckin problem.” Duck kisses his forehead, anger sparking in his stomach at someone seeing Indrid as anything other than wonderful.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Y’know, think I got somethin that might take your mind off it. And lemme show you just how great you are.”

“Does it involve you wearing no clothes?”

“Uh huh. How’d you know?” He teases.

“Lucky guess.” Indrid deadpans, taking him by the hand and leading him into his bedroom. It’s less of a mess than usual, though Duck spies new drawings on the wall and the little lantern-shaped fairy lights he bought him. He plugs those in, leaving the rest of the lights off.

Indrid disrobes eagerly, but Duck takes his time. He likes watching Indrids face as he undresses, how appreciative and excited he looks, the way he licks his lips whenever new patch of skin is revealed. 

Under the warm lights, Indrids dark brown eyes almost turn red, the angles of his face go soft without losing their distinct charm.

“Now” Duck stands at the side of the bed, beckons commandingly so Indrid scoots to perch on the edge “you’re gonna get me off. Then I’m gonna get that strap on I brought with me this mornin out, and fuck you with it like I promised.”

“_Yes_” Indrid surges forward and Duck laughs as he kisses and nips at his belly, nearly purring with delight. He sucks at Ducks hip, teasing his finger just below his dick.

“Use that sweet little mouth first, darlin.” 

He doesn’t have to ask again, Indrid flashing a grin up at him before lapping at him with a moan. Duck fists one hand into his hair, pulling it gently, laughs again when Indrid squeezes his ass gratefully. 

“Mmmm, that’s good darlin, you can use whatever you want nowohhhhhyeah.” Indrid slips two fingers in easily, curling them as he rests his head on Ducks belly. His other hand is still grabbing and stroking his ass, arm looped around his lower back to keep him close. 

“Move your palmNah!, like that, shit, like that.” 

Indrids got that grin on his face again, the one where it looks like he’s got Duck exactly where he wants him. 

“Do you like that, sweetheart?”

“Ain’t that, fuck, fuckin obvious?” He’s haphazardly petting his hair, making Indrid nuzzle closer. 

“Hmm, I don’t know” Indrid presses harder and Duck groans as loud as he dares, grinding against him faster “maybe I should stop.”

“Don’t you fuckin dare, god, fuck, ‘Drid, please.”

Indrid sucks at the sensitive skin on his left side, fucks him harder with his fingers. Duck grips his shoulders for dear life as his orgasm builds.

“You feel so wonderful” Indrid kisses along his ribs “So good, won’t you be a good boy and come for me?”

Duck gasps, hunching forward and hugging Indrid close as he comes. 

Indrid pulls his hand away, tugs Duck just enough to bring them both flopping onto the bed. Duck giggles against his shoulder as Indrid kisses his cheek. 

“Sit tight.” Duck kisses him once, scrambles out of the bed to grab the bag he brought earlier. He wiggles his way into the strap on as Indrid pulls some condoms and a bottle of lube from under the bed. 

He looks up from adjusting the straps to find Indrid on his elbows and knees, facing the head of the bed. And while he appreciates the view…

“On your back, darlin.”

“...oh.” Indrid rolls cautiously onto his back, hands resting on his chest. 

“That okay?” Duck crawls between his legs, runs his hands up them reassuringly. 

“Yes, it’s just, uh, I’ve been told the noises I make during this activity can be...a bit much. I was going to muffle them with a pillow.”

Duck’s eyebrows shoot to the top of his head, “You know I like how you sound.”

“This may be different.” He’s still looking a little nervous, though he readily lets Duck take his hand and bring it to his mouth for a kiss. 

“How about this: you start feelin self-conscious about how you sound, you kiss me?”

The sweet smile is back, lighting Ducks heart up like a Christmas tree. He grabs a condom, opening and slipping it on his finger, coating it with a ridiculous amount of lube. He teases the outside for a moment before pressing in, Indrid tensing when he does. 

“Okay?”

“Yes” Indrid breaths out. Duck slowly moves his finger deeper, begins thrusting.

“Touch yourself for me, darlin, show me how to make you feel good.”

One hand shoots down to his cock, the other begins teasing at the bar in his right nipple. Indrid whines, biting his lip, wiggling his hips as he touches himself.

“Ain’t that a sight” Duck purrs, working in a second finger, “you look so fuckin good doin that, so fuckin amazin, can’t believe I get to see you doin that.”

Indrid lets out a whine that Duck recognizes as him getting flustered by praise. So he presses on, working his fingers harder and curling them every now and then. 

“Goddamn do I love watchin your dick get all slick and messy from thinkin about me, how cute you start blushin when I jack you o-” A high noise jumps through the room, followed by the thwap of Indrid clapping his hands over his mouth. 

“Did you just...chirp?” 

Indrid shakes his head, eyes wide and blush raging.

“You _did_. Oh, darlin” he murmurs gently, “that sound ain’t anythin to be embarrassed by. Was actually real cute.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice.” Indrid mumbles through his hands. 

“No, I ain’t. In fact, I wanna hear it you do it again.” He crawls forward, leaning down to kiss him long and sweet. 

He watches Indrids face carefully, watches the lines of apprehension smooth away and be replaced by that smile as Indrid lays his hands on either side of his head. 

“Make me.”

Duck fumbles with the lube, sliding a mess of it across the purple dick he’s wearing (it’s the smaller of the two he owns) and shoving Indrids legs apart. 

“Whatever you say, darlin.” Even as he growls, he pushes in carefully, not wanting to hurt the man beneath him. The man whose face is currently flooding with desire, a moan spilling from his lips. 

“Goodness, oh god, yes, Duck, you, you can move if you wantAHoh” He smiles when Duck drops down to pins his hands beneath his own, kissing him hungrily as he works his hips. Duck tests his movements, tries different angles and speeds, kisses Indrids forehead when the thinner man moves to bite and suck his neck. Indrids fingers tighten in his, and he can feel streaks of pre-cum on his stomach from Indrids cock rubbing between them.

He thrusts hard, and the chirp is buried under a wet kiss to his shoulder.

“Did it.” 

“No, ah, you, goodness, must have misheard. I’d never make such a noise.” When their eyes meet, Indrids are sparkling with humor and Duck grins at him; the noise is no longer something he wants to hide. He’s offering it to Duck as a reward, a challenge.

He’s trusting him. 

“That so?” He disentangles his right hand, pinches at the silver bar on Indrids chest. Indrid yelps, and as he does Duck pounds into him as hard as he can, resting up on his elbow for better leverage. Moans, punctuated by whimpers and cries, flood the room, his own grunts of effort mingling with them. 

“AHH, see, no matter what, I won’t make that noise again.”

Duck kisses his way down to his chest, takes the bar in his mouth and sucks, occasionally playing with it between his teeth, Indrid thrashing in response. At the same time, he places his hands on Indrids shoulders and shoves, trapping him against the bed.

The chirpmoan escapes Indrids throat as come spreads on his skin. Duck keeps him pinned, keeps fucking him until Indrids orgasm wrings him limp. Then he pulls out gingerly, kissing him over and over again as he guides him into his arms. 

“'A bit much' my ass, that was so fuckin hot.”

“Thank you” Indrid pants, curling around him. 

“And hey, ‘Drid? Even if it weren’t, you don’t gotta be embarrassed about that shit around me. You don’t gotta be some perfect person who don’t ever make weird sounds or get shy or only comes from two minutes of missionary or whatever it is that voice in your head is sayin you’re wrong for not bein. I wanna be with _you_, get to know you, weird shit and all.”

Indrid looks at him, eyes a bit watery, and opens his mouth. Then he shuts it, opts to cuddle close with a hum instead. 

For a moment, just a moment, Duck wonders what he was going to say. And then he forgets all about it, focuses on the feel of Indrid in his arms, on his voice as he asks him about his plans for tomorrow. 

After all, whatever it was, it couldn’t have been that important.


	10. Maybe It's Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid sees what's coming. Dani tries to help.

Duck Newton is biking down one of the main roads towards campus. The November air breezes by him, cars zipping past on his left side as he peddles along the bike lane.  
He sees the door opening towards him a split second too late, the person inside their car looking at their phone and not seeing him at all. The door catches his side, sending both him and the bike into traffic. 

It hurts, but he’s wiped out worse, he’ll be okay. 

If it weren’t for the oncoming car, who doesn’t see him in time to break.

Indrid snaps out of the trance, the word “No” reverberating through his apartment. 

He looks down at the drawing, the one that, like all his visions, comes automatically. His stomach turns; it’s the aftermath of the accident. 

He can’t allow this chance, no matter how small. He can’t lose Duck, he can’t, not when he’s been given a chance to save him

Its only as he’s frantically pulling on his shoes that he realizes he doesn’t know what his plan is. He has to stall Duck by ten minutes at the minimum, but even that still allows for futures where he, he...

(he can’t even think it)

But if he makes it so Duck has to take another route entirely….

He grabs a tool from his junk drawer and bolts down the stairs. Duck won’t be down for five minutes, he has time to do this and Duck'll be none the wiser. 

It takes him two minutes to find Ducks bike, another one to slash the back tire. He cuts his finger trying to slash the front one, sticks it in his mouth with a hiss. The pain distracts him from the shift in the future. He manages to make a decent tear in the front one, stands up panting with relief.

“What the _fuck!?_”

He whirls, boxcutter still very much in his hand, to find Duck staring at him in utter confusion. Which turns to immediate anger when he sees the what he's holding.

“I can explain. Please, I-”

“What the fuck, Indrid, I gotta be to work in ten minutes, you fuckin know my manager is this close to-”

“Firing you, yes, but I needed to-”

“_Needed_ to? Who gives a shit? I need to fuckin pay rent you absolute” Duck stops, taking a deep breath, “I ain’t got time for this, if I run maybe I can make it. And you are buyin me new tires, asshole!.” He fires over his shoulder as he takes off. 

Indrid stands still for a full fifteen minutes, trying to process what just happened, the flood of usual futures, and his need to watch Ducks future until he’s sure he makes it to work safely. Then he turns, heads inside, and walks as calmly as he can into his apartment. 

And pulls out his phone.  
\---------------------------------  
Dani’s phone buzzes as she’s sitting down for her lecture. 

_Indrid: I FUCKED UP_

_Indrid: HELP ME_

_Dani: What happened?_

_Indrid: Futures were bad and Duck was in them and I was just trying to help, I wanted to help, and now he’s furious with me but at least he’s not going to die_

Dani’s known Indrid a few years, having gone to high school with him, and this has all the tells of one of his future freak-outs.

_Dani: Deep breaths okay? I mean it, count the seconds if you have to. Is the bad thing a likely future, or just something you saw had some tiny chance of happening?_

_Indrid: Very likely, but him being angry with me is not a future. It is a past. Because I slashed his bike tires to keep him from dying. _

_Dani: Oh jesus. Okay._

Her professor is setting up her laptop, so she hurriedly types _Tell him the truth. That’s your best move of a bad bunch._  
\------------------------------------------  
Indrid looks at the phone. He knows Dani is right. Deep down.

However, all the layers of him on top of that deep down one are screaming that he needs to find something, anything, else to explain to Duck why he did what he did. 

Because he knows how this conversation goes. Duck will call him a liar, call him crazy. If he demonstrates the truth, Duck will call him a freak. That is how this goes. 

There are exceptions, of course; Dani, who thanked him for telling her something so personal. Barclay, who was puzzled at first but rolled with it. 

His alarm dings, and in haze he gets ready for work and heads out the door. Stays in his fog, the weak florescents of the dollar store and the grim faces of the customers making him feel like he’s in a dream. Or maybe purgatory. 

The hours tick by like years until mercifully he can go home.

He just gets out of his uniform and into his sweats when Duck trudges past his window and into the building. By the time Indrid makes it out his door, Duck is halfway up the stairs. 

“Duck, wait!”

Duck doesn’t even look down towards him.

Indrid sprints up after him, jamming half his body into the door when Duck tries to slam it closed. 

“Well, Indrid, congrats: you got me fired. Not even Leo could help me convince that manager not to toss me out.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah. Sure. Not like you, I dunno, fuckin did it on purpose!”

“I, I did. You’re right. But I had a reason.”

Duck crosses his arms, unconvinced.

“I can see the future!” Indrid blurts out, “I, it’s a long story, but I can see things coming and this morning I saw you getting into a terrible accident and I panicked and…..and I did the first thing I thought of to stop it from happening. I’m sorry it still had bad consequences for you.” He looks down, struggling to collect himself. There are futures where Duck understands, and he looks up hopefully. 

Duck is still glaring at him.

“Future vision? Really? Christ, Indrid, at least have the decency to tell me the truth.”

“I-I am.”

“Just how stupid do you think I am?”

“I _don’t_" He protests weakly. He’s out of ideas. He sees what’s coming. 

He doesn’t even try to change it. 

“Whatever. Look, as far as I’m concerned, this just killed whatever we had goin deader than the Dodo. So unless you feel like comin back to me with a real apology and a fuck good reason why this happened” he pushes Indrid back so he’s no longer blocking the door, “I don’t wanna see you again. Ever.” 

With that, he slams the door. 


	11. Thanks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stern hypothesizes. Duck takes a sip. Indrid has a weird night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: It's suggested in this chapter that Indrid is going to frat parties trying to hook-up as a form of self-harm (no hook-ups actually occur).

Alright, so technically Duck _can’t_ go without ever seeing Indrid again. They still have their art class together, live in the same building. Still pass each other at the lodge. But he’ll be damned if he knocks on his door for help with a drawing, or sits down beside him by the fireplace with his cup of coffee.

Given how upset he’d been, Duck expected Indrid to keep pushing, try and get him to reconsider. Instead, Indrid does as Duck asked, giving him a wide berth whenever they pass at the lodge. He sits as far from him as he can in class. Occasionally, Duck will look over to find Indrid concentrating on some drawing or other, with the fidget cube he gave him in one hand. And his traitor of a heart will demand that he go over there, that he give him a chance to explain again. That he take those ink and graphite stained fingers in his hand and tell him everything will be okay.

The others don’t urge him to take Indrid back, or make amends. But he’s known them long enough to know when they’re worried about him and trying valiantly not to say anything about said worry.

It all comes to head Thanksgiving Weekend. Dani and Aubrey have gone home to meet Dani’s family, but the rest of them (Barclay, Stern, Jake, Duck, and Indrid) are all still in town. They have a tradition of eating a huge fucking meal Thursday night, though it’s never what one would call a “traditional” Thanksgiving Meal. They try out different names for it; Aubrey likes “Friendsgiving,” Duck, “This Is Fucking Absurd-night.” while Ned lobbies for “Stupendous Eve, sponsored by the Cryptonomica.”

Their tradition began with Barclay, who hates Thanksgiving only slightly less than he hates Columbus Day. But he loves cooking for his friends, and most of his friends, like him, are either too far from home or don’t want to go home for the short holiday. If they’re all in town with the night off, they may as well take advantage of it. And so he picks a ridiculously elaborate dish and make it, plus some sides and dessert, and the others bring drinks or appetizers and they spread out in the closed lodge to relax.

This year, he’s gone with a “dim sum” theme. Stern and Jake assist him in the kitchen, rolling and steaming and frying. Duck and Mama set the table. Moira picks out some music. Thacker putters about, changing light bulbs that need it or otherwise trying to do things to make Mama’s life easier. Ned keeps raiding the wine.

Duck tries to ignore that there’s one person missing. Indrid is nowhere to be seen.

As they eat, Jake asks, “hey, Moira, did that one cute waiter come back?”

“Oh, you mean Travis? Yes, although it was still several days of him being gone. I was so worried I even called his roommates to ask about him. Then he showed up the next day.”

“You know, that’s not the first time that’s happened here. In Kepler, I mean.” Stern says, topping off Barclays water before filling his own. 

“Whadyoumean?” Jake asks through a mouthful of dough.

“I keep track of the police reports, that little column in the newspaper? More than once there’s been a missing persons call, or a report of someone seeming to disappear from view when an onlooker looked away for a moment."

“Weird.” Duck says.

“Well, you know how young people are; always running off at the drop of the hat to seize the wild moments of your youth.” Ned adds. 

“But that’s the thing, it isn’t only people our age. Plenty of non-students have gone and then come back as well. It’s just so strange, don’t you think?”

“I agree. Speakin of people not showin, I thought Indrid was comin.” Mama takes a second helping of taro dumplings.

“Said he had to work.” Barclay doesn’t sound like he believes the excuse. Duck doesn’t either; none of the places Indrid works are open today. 

After a moment Stern says, “I…don’t know if this is my place, but I’m worried about him.”

Duck looks up at him hurriedly, “Why?”

“I’ve heard students in the class I T.A talking. Several of them are in various fraternities and someone showed up at several parties last weekend offering, ahem, favors of a kind. And the description couldn’t be anyone but Indrid.”

Duck’s mouth is dry, even after a huge swig of beer, “That can’t be right, ‘Drid hates that shit.”

Stern gives him a pointed look, “That was my understanding as well. So it stands to reason he’s doing it for another purpose. Say, punishment, perhaps?”

“Hey, even if this has to do with what happened between him and me that don’t-”

Barclay holds up a hand, “Duck, I don’t think any of us are blaming you for whatever’s going on. And if it were anyone else, I say we should just butt out because they’re a grown-ass adult who can handle their shit. But this is so weird for him that it’s making us all worried and I think we're right to be. So, I’m just gonna check in with him this week. See how he’s doin.”

Mama clears her throat, “Well, if that don’t work and anyone ends up hurtin him, you just let me know and I can bring out the big guns. So to speak. C’mon Arlo, Moira, Ned, you’re with me on dish duty.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“That woman still scares the hell out me sometimes.” Duck says.

“Yep.” Say the other three. 

As the evening winds down and Duck pulls on his jacket, preparing to leave, a bag full of to-go containers enters his vision. 

“Seems silly for me to take ‘em to Indrid when you’re gonna walk right past his apartment to go to yours. Leave them by his door if you want to see him.” Is all Barclay says. 

Duck nods, thanks Barclay for dinner one more time and heads out into the night. Indrid’s apartment is dark, but Duck knows that doesn’t always mean he’s gone. He sets the bag down, heads up to his place.

_Duck: Barclay sent some leftovers from dinner. Put them by your door._

_Indrid: Thank you._

Ducks fingers hover above the keys. He types out _I missed you tonight._

Then he erases it, and goes to bed.   
\---------------------------------------------------------  
After another week of Indrid not only steering clear of Duck, but dodging questions from Barclay and weekend invitations to hang out from Aubrey, they concoct a plan.

Aubrey and Dani take one section of frat houses, Stern and Duck another (Barclay has to work). Because Stern doesn’t drink, they agree that Duck will be the one to chat to people as he fills up his red cup while Stern scopes out the house. After all, nothing is going to make them look like narcs more than turning up and not drinking. 

They’re on house number three and Duck is feeling more than a little unsteady.

“Are you quite sure you want to drink that? I just saw them pour an entire bottle of Everclear into the bowl and then some mountain dew.” 

“For ‘Drid, I’ll do it. ‘Sides, I’ve drunk worse.”

Stern quirks his lips disapprovingly, “Well, I think this may be our house. For the sake of your liver, let’s hope I’m right.”  
\----------------------------------------  
Indrid is having a strange night.

Two minutes ago, he’d been about to blow a perfectly uninteresting frat boy. And then the door had burst open and a flock of girls in matching dresses hounded the guy from the room.

“Ohmygod, are you okay?” One, blonde, asks, helping him onto the bed.

“Yes, I’m, I’m fine, why did you just do that?”

“Because that asshole isn’t worth wasting a condom on” Says another, red-haired and clearly more sober than her friends. 

“Ugggggh he’s such a dick.” Black hair this time, heading into the little bathroom to check her make-up. She’s followed by black hair with blue stripes, who hands her a tiny hairbrush from her purse. 

“Thank you, then, for showing him the door.”

“So, like, why were you in here with him?” Shorter blonder hair sits plops next to him on the bed, taking off her heels and rubbing her feet. 

“I… a relationship ended and I haven’t been feeling terribly happy about it. I don’t think I’m handling it well.” 

“Still not over him?” Red-hair sits down in a chair.

“No.” Indrid drops his eyes, ashamed at the admission; he and Duck weren’t even together for three weeks. It has no right to hurt this much.

“Awww, it’s okay.” Blonde smiles at him, “we’ve all been there.”

“Becca’s there now” Blue stripes yells.

“Not for fucking long. Gonna get that dick tonight!” Blonde-bob shrieks.

“You may want to look closer to home” Indrid murmurs, futures floating across his mind, “Alice and you would make a lovely pair.”

Red-head, Alice, looks startled, and Becca gawps at Indrid.

“How did you know I like her” They say at the same time.

He scrambles for an explanation, comes up with “I’m a psychic and I can read ...auras?”

“NO WAY”

Which is how, goodness knows how many minutes later, he is surrounded by Becca, Alice, Kat, Katie, and Kate, each asking questions about their love life (except for Kat, who is interested in her career prospects). This is interspersed with them listening to Indrid babble about how much he misses Duck and how bad he feels about how things went. Someone is rubbing his shoulders comfortingly, and Kate has a stash of miniature M&M packets in her purse that she’s sharing around. 

When the door swings open, the women close around him slightly. 

Standing in the light of the hall is none other than Duck Newton. 

“Found you” He grins.

“Hey, buddy, whatever you heard about what’s going on up here is wrong. So scram.” Alice says.

“Heard? Oh you mean the sex stuff.” Ducks eyes go wide with horror “nonno, shit, ‘Drid, here cause I’m worried about you.”

Indrid stands with a sigh, “_You’re_ worried about _me_? Duck, you look ready to fall over.”

“Yeah, cause I been drinkin my way up the block tryin to find out where you were.”

Well, Indrid is feeling less bad about his own occasional lapses in problem solving. He steps forward, reaching for his hand on instinct, when Stern tears down the hall. 

“We need to go. Now.” 

“I found him.”

“Yes, and some football players who I got banned from the team just found me.” Stern is looking over his shoulder.

“How come they got cut?” Chirps Becca

Stern notices the five women for the first time, gives them a tight smile, “I caught them sharing non-consensually taken photos of the cheering team in the changing rooms on their phones in class. And, uh, hounded the right people until something substantial was done. So can we please go?” He herds the two men down the hall.

“Bye Indrid!” Call many voices.

“Bye everyone, thank you for the companyyyyyyoh no Stern here they come.”

“Hey! You!”

“Run!” They make it out the door, tearing down the street. This would be easier were one third of their party not extremely drunk.

“Don’t you have a car?” Indrid calls, pulling Duck along behind him.

“Regrettably, no!” 

The many footsteps behind them suggest many pursuers, and Indrid is starting to panic, searching the futures for one where this ends without a literal fight. 

For once, his foresight helps him.

“Joseph, go into the bar at the end of the street.”

Stern skids to a stop in front of the building, looking at it skeptically, “Here? How is this possibly safer?”

“Trust me.” Indrid pushes past him, Duck still in tow. Stern slips through the door behind them. 

The bar is dimly lit, but nearly everyone in it is wearing a jacket in a yellow and black color scheme. Above the bar, a sign reads “The Hornets Nest.”

All the heads in the room turn to regard them. 

“Uh, hello.” Indrid does his best to smile, “We ran into some trouble with a group of football players and would like to stay in here while we call for a ride. Please.”

The other patrons turn to regard one specific person at the head of the pool table.

“Yeah, sure, you can hang here for a bit. None of those guys are gonna follow you in here, that’s for fucking sure.” 

Indrid relaxes, “Thank you. Um, I’m Indrid, this is Joseph, and this is Duck.” Stern gives a small wave of acknowledgement. Duck tries to wave vigorously and overbalances, Indrid steadying him.

“Oh yeah” the leader nods, “you’re friends of Jakes. I’m Hollis. Uh, your friend doing okay there?”

“‘M fine, why’s everybody so worried?” Duck grumbles as Indrid leads him to a couch near the jukebox. Hollis huffs, amused, and signals to the bartender. 

“Because you drank from those horrible vats of god-knows-what.” Stern replies, not looking up from his texting. 

“Damn, you drank the jungle juice? That’s a rookie mistake, man.” Hollis crosses to Indrid and Duck, holding out a glass of water that Duck takes with some difficulty. They turn to regard Stern, who looks decidedly out of place even in his casual clothes.

“You play pool?”

Stern brightens, “I do.”

As Hollis, Stern, and two other Hornets set up for a game, Indrid watches Duck carefully, mind wandering through the futures as they come. 

“OH!” Duck puts his glass down, gesturing at Indrid excitedly, “got somethin I wanna show you.” He digs out his phone, flipping through it to a picture, which he shows to Indrid proudly. It’s of Duck’s sister, Jane, standing tall in a girl scout uniform with a silver plaque in her hand. 

“Jane got’er silver award, for doin, uh, some kind of, health...charity...thing? Can’t remember, anyway, ain’t that cool?”

“Very. You must be proud of her.”

“I am. So fuckin proud, she’s such a bright kid, gonna do all sorts of cool shit when she grows up, gonna go to med school or get a pilots liscene or some shit. That’s assumin her big brother ain’t burned through all the college money bein a dam fool.” He sips his water bitterly, “it ain’t fair, no matter how much I work, or they work, or she works, we ain’t gonna get out of this without a whol fuckin bunch of debt and I shoulda just gone to trade school or somethin, not wanted to do somethin silly like be a ranger.”

“Duck Newton, you stop that right now.” Indrid says firmly, “You are doing what speaks to you, and your sister will as well. The money struggles come from the unfairness of the universe and the crookedness of various systems. They are not your doing.”

Duck blinks at him. Then he smiles, a big goody expression, and rests his head on Indrids shoulder.

“Missed you.” He murmurs. 

“I missed you too.” His whole body is screaming for him to draw Duck into his arms. He pats his knee instead.

“.....’Drid?”

“Yes, Duck?”

“I don’t feel good.”

Indrid sees what’s coming, “Hollis, where might we find-”

“Bathroom’s thataway.”

He spends the next several minutes rubbing Ducks back gently as his friend throws-up in the bathroom. Somewhat comically, in-between puking Duck keeps trying to update him on how his life’s been in the time they haven’t seen each other. 

When they emerge, Dani and Aubrey have arrived with Aubreys’ car, and the Hornets are busy arguing over who gets to be Sterns partner for the next game of pool (the taller man turning out to be extraordinarily good).

Indrid stays quiet on the ride home, allowing Stern to fill in the details of their evening to the by-turns-concerned-and-amused girlfriends. 

When they finally get to the apartment, he helps Duck up the stairs, holds his hand steady so he can unlock the door. Maneuvers Duck carefully onto his bed, at which point his friend begins messily stripping off his clothes. Indrid can’t be in here, he can’t , not with the familiar curves of Ducks body, not with the little dottings of scars he spent an afternoon lazily kissing.

“Do you need anything?”

“Water?”

Indrid heads into the kitchen, brings back a glass. Duck takes it, sips, then set’s it on the nightstand.

When his arms wrap around Indrids waist, he freezes. 

“Missed you.” Duck sighs, rubbing his cheek on Indrids sweater. 

“S-so you said.”

“Missed cuddelin you, missed talkin to you.”

“Duck, please-” He won’t make it if Duck looks at him dreamily like that, lips offering sweet word after sweet word. He can’t stand the thought him saying those things only to take them back in the morning. He'll crumple.

“Missed drawin with you. Missed fuckin you.” He grins up on that one, only to have the look falter, “guess you didn’t miss fuckin me. Got your fill other ways.”

“Not even remotely. I had one person take me up on the offer, only to be promptly chased away by those extremely protective sorority girls. Apparently I am well and truly off-putting.”

“Uh uh, y’fine as fuck. And you fuck real fine. Heh, see what, what I did there?”

Indrid rolls his eyes fondly.

“Want me t’show you just how much I missed you?” He leers, his meaning unmistakable. 

“Duck, you’re drunk. And we still need to talk about what happened. What we actually want from all this. I’ll come by tomorrow morning.” He eases Ducks hands off his back, but Duck grips his fingers tightly. 

“Promise I’ll see you in the mornin.” He says softly.

Indrid smiles, “I promise.”  
\------------------------------  
Duck wakes up and immediately regrets this action. A bass drum filled with angry squirrels is pounding in his head, and his stomach is feeling like month-old milk. 

When he sits up, he finds a water glass, painkillers, and a breakfast sandwich on the nightstand.

When he shuffles into the living room, he finds Indrid asleep on the couch, blanket wrapped around him and Winnie nesting on his feet. 

“Mornin, sleepyhead.”

Indrid looks blearily at him, not smiling as much as Duck expected

Oh, right. 

They need to have a talk. 

Yeah, this ain’t gonna be fun.


	12. Reset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck and Indrid have a talk. Aubrey brags. Winnie gets a petsitter.

“So.” Says Duck

“Right.” Yawns Indrid.

“Lemme make coffee and then we should-”

“I, um, already made some. When I got up to get breakfast, figured I should start that as well. Fell back asleep before it was ready.”

“Uh, thanks. You wanna a cup too?”

“Please.” 

Duck moves like a rather sluggish ghost into the kitchen, finds two mugs already set out by the coffee-pot. Pieces together that Indrid had been planning to bring him coffee in bed to wake him up.

He steadies himself against the counter as nausea rolls through him. As he straightens, he tries to figure out why Indrid would stay, why he’d bring Duck breakfast and make him coffee when last night he hadn’t seemed all that excited to see him. 

He pours his mug, then the other for Indrid (which he dumps sugar into). When he brings it to the living room, Indrid is sitting up, petting Winnie. Duck sits down on her other side; hands Indrid his mug.

“How much of what you said last night did you mean?” Indrid won’t look at him.

“Uh, all of it. Indrid, look, booze can make me do some weird things, but the one thing I know it can’t do is improve my lyin. Believe me, I’ve tried. And Aubrey has the video to prove it.”

Indrid laughs softly and the ache in Ducks chest grows; it’s like a magnet is where his heart should be, and it’s tugging at him, trying to move towards it’s twin buried beneath Indrids skin. 

“I do miss you, ‘Drid. I missed you as soon as I cooled down after that fight.”

“Then why didn’t you _do_ something about it?” Indrid says with irritated confusion, standing as he does so, “we saw each other, you have my number, I live _right there_.” He points down angrily. 

“Because you fucked me over! Jesus, ‘Drid, no matter how much I like you, I ain’t about to forget you just up and slashed my tires and then gave me some bullshit line to try and explain it.”

“It is not-” Indrid centers himself, shutting his eyes, “Fine, to hell with it: in two minutes, a car alarm will go off in the parking lot, Winnie will get scared, and she’ll knock over that glass. In one minute and….ten seconds, I think, Aubrey will text the following words to you: Hope you’re not too hung over, but I’m going to brag because I won the betting pool about how long before we saw Stern wearing one of Barclays flannels on accident. Duck emoji dollar sign fireball.”

Duck has to admire his confidence, even if he’s still bullshitting him. 

“‘Drid, why do you think that’s gonna make me-”

_Beebly Beep_

_Aubrey: Hope you’re not too hung over, but I’m going to brag because I won the betting pool about how long before we saw Stern wearing one of Barclays flannels on accident._

This is followed by a duck, a dollar sign, fireball. 

“...Believe you.” 

Indrid looks pleased, his smile going wide.

The car alarm goes off. Duck grabs the glass right before Winnie knocks it over, never looking away from Indrid.

“You were tellin the truth.”

“_Yes._”

“So, you, actually saw, saw me, die?”

“Yes.”

“And...you saved me.”

“Yes, because this power has been little more than a headache much of my life and I couldn’t stand the idea that I might mess up the one time it gave me a way to save someone I care about.”

“‘Drid” Duck steps the few feet needed to bring them together, takes Indrids hands, “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you."

“You’re not the first.”

“That don’t matter. I was a dipshit and assumed you wantin to fuck me over was the more likely explanation than what you told me. You deserved me assumin the best of you, not the worst.”

Indrid sniffles.

“Aw, ‘Drid, no, hey, it’s okay.” He sits down, guiding Indrid onto the couch with him, “I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I feel so fuckin bad that you thought you had to punish yourself and I missed you and, just, you deserved better from me.”

“Duck, I panicked and lost you your job. I could have come with up a better plan, but I still don’t always know how to handle my visions and plan from them, I’m sorry.” He rubs his fingers beneath his glasses, trying to get the tears before they fall.

“Nuh uh, you did your apologizin. My turn, think my dipshittery means a bit more grovelin than your savin my ass does. I’ll find another job, and we’ll figure out ways that you don’t panic so much.”

“We?” Indrid says cautiously. 

“We.” Duck says again, “‘Drid, this is obviously real fuckin hard for you. There’s gotta be ways to make it somethin you can deal with, and I’m bettin we can come up with some. Aubrey and them too.”

Indrid looks at him, lip quivering, and then he buries his face in Ducks shoulder, hiccuping little sobs. 

“Shhhhhhh, I got you.” Duck simply holds him, pets his hair, gives him the time he needs to get whatever he’s been keeping down out. He’d give him the world if he could, give him the answers, give him a life without constant worry. For now, he’ll have to settle for giving him a hug. 

Eventually Indrid collects himself with a few final sniffles, sitting back to look at him. 

“What happens now?” Duck murmurs.

“I think….I think maybe we got ahead of ourselves, before. Maybe neither of us was quite ready to date the other.”

“Yeah.” Duck hates that he’s right.

“I wasn't ready to tell you the truth, and you were all too ready to assume the worst.”

“Yeah.” Duck rubs his arm sheepishly. 

“Perhaps we ought to try being friends for a bit longer before trying anything more.” Indrid rests a hand on Ducks knee, which he hadn’t even realized he was bouncing. 

“Think I can manage that.” Duck gives him a hopeful smile. Feels his soul lighten when Indrid smiles back. 

“You’ve no idea how glad I am to hear that.”

“You didn’t see it comin?” Duck teases.

“Seeing a thing is not a substitute for feeling it in the moment, I find. Now,” Indrid clears space on the coffee table, revealing Ducks attempts at his art assignment, “will you let me help avert the disaster that this project is becoming?"

“With pleasure.”  
\------------------------------------------  
The remainder of the semester passes surprisingly pleasantly. Indrid and Duck study together, either in their apartments or at the lodge with the others, hang out most days (sometimes with Indrid drawing while Duck looks for new jobs or reads), and often conk out on the couch together. They’ve agreed that hugging and minor cuddling is fine, but that any more is too close to romance for the time being. Duck’s heart still does little kickflip whenever Indrid smiles and nestles against him during a movie.

They also have brainstorming sessions with Dani and Barclay (and Aubrey, once Dani explains Indrids powers) about how to help Indrid manage his visions. Duck sees the entire spectrum of red when Indrid says that his family, upon learning of his powers, decided he _had_ to go into business because foresight could mean massive success in the stockmarket. Dani suggests journaling and meditation, Aubrey lobbies for “giant corkboard with lots of red string and newspaper clippings.”

To top it all off, Indrid agrees to pet sit Winnie while Duck is back in West Virginia for winter break. They’re in Ducks apartment, going over what Indrid needs to do (honestly, he already knows most of it from how often he’s over, but he insists on going through the list anyway because he knows how important Winnie is to Duck). 

Duck’s glad he did for another reason.

“That’s about it. Uh, here, hold on a sec, I got one other thing for you.” He grabs a large, wrapped box from his bedroom and presents it to Indrid. The taller man takes it, blush rising on his cheeks.

“I uh, I know you don’t like this time of year because of how things are with your folks. And I know you and Barclay and them will do a little shindig but, uh, I wanted to, to give you somethin in case you needed cheerin up on the day itself. So, no peekin with the futures either.”

Indrid reads the writing on the box, instructing him not to open until Christmas Eve, and is grinning so wide his cheeks must hurt. 

“Duck I, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t gotta say nothin, pretty plain on your face.” He steps forward to kiss him, catching himself at the last moment. 

“Thank you.” Indrid sets the package down so he can hug Duck tightly. 

“Promise you’ll call or text or somethin if you’re feelin low and need me?”

“I do.” Indrid murmurs in his ear, “promise you’ll do the same?’

“Yep.” Duck gives him one final squeeze before breaking the embrace, “Right, I oughta head out to my bus so I can get to the airport.” 

“I’ll walk you out.” Indrid picks up Ducks backpack, freezes. 

“What’s wrong?”

“We, you, you can’t go outside just yet.”

“What, why?”

“It’s here again.” Indrid whispers, his eyes going blank behind his glasses. Duck knows he’s looking at the futures, but it's still unnerving to watch everything that makes Indrid himself disappear from his face. 

“I can’t see what it is, but it’s _there_, it’s there and it’ll take you and, and, no, goddammit why can’t I see what it is clearly?’

“Try maybe focusin on when it’ll go, rather than what it is? Maybe that’ll be less frustratin?”

Indrid takes several deep breaths, face blank again. 

“Three minutes” he says, the light and life coming back into his eyes. 

“How’sabout we sit tight for four, just to be sure?”

“That would make me feel considerably better.”

And so Duck double-checks his boarding pass and wallet, Indrid makes sure he has the key to Ducks place, and then Duck gives Winnie some final goodbye cuddles (Indrid takes pictures on his phone and Duck doesn’t mind one bit, even though he'd usually dive out of the way of someone taking candids).

Indrid gives the all clear and they head down, the taller man pulling him into one final hug before he goes. 

Duck’s had calmer walks to the bus station, that’s for damn sure. Ones where he’s not looking behind himself every ten seconds and jumping at every sound. But his luck holds, and he gets on his bus without some terrifying fate befalling him.

_Duck: On bus, still in one piece. _

_Indrid: Oh good. Travel safe, Duck._

_Duck: Do my best. Want me to text you when I land?_

_Indrid: There’s no need to _

_Duck: I asked what you wanted, goofus._

_Indrid….Yes, please._

_Duck: You got it. You stay safe in the meantime okay? Whatever’s been spooking you better not try anything, BTW, or I’ll march my ass all the way back from WV to fuck it up_

_Indrid: Glad to know you’re looking out for me :) And I’ll do my best. I don't want anything to keep me from seeing you when you get back._


	13. Something to Remember Me By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey and Dani get cozy. Stern and Barclay trade clothes. Duck and Indrid take a tour.

“Honey, you do that you’re gonna be late for your traAIInnnn, ohfuck, okay go ahead and be late.” Aubrey grips the black comforter as Dani finishes slipping her underwear off, teasing her gently as she does so. 

“Don’t worry, cutie, we’ve got time.” She smiles before ducking her head under Aubreys' skirt. This is one of her favorite things, denying Aubrey the chance to watch what’s happening using a blindfold, a sleep-mask and, on one occasion, gravely misusing the colored handkerchiefs from her act. 

“It’s so you can focus on how it feels.” Dani’d whispered in her ear the first time and really she’s not going to complain about that logic. 

Dani draws her tongue in slow curves, adding pressure she reaches Aubrey’s clit and Aubrey moans, rolling her hips in response. 

“Mmmm, you are in a hurry.” Dani giggles.

“N-no, just, feels good, want more, baby please you know I can’t form complex sentences when you’re eating me out.”

The laugh is louder this time, punctuated by love bites on her inner thighs. 

“Hey!” Aubrey laughs, wiggling when she does it again, then moaning loud enough that she’s pretty sure she’s going to owe Jake another apology for the noise when Dani sucks hard.

“Gotta leave you something to remember me by.” This time she pulls her head out from under the fabric, wisps of blonde hair flowing out away from her head from static. Aubrey tries to flatten them down, only for them to stick out worse.

“You want me to get your favorite one so we can make out while I fuck you?”

“Hell yeah.”

Dani hops gracefully off the bed, opening the box that has, thus far, kept their sex toys from getting covered in rabbit fur. Returns with a purple, U-shaped vibrator, turning it on before slipping it under Aubreys' skirt. 

“AH! Fuck, thank you for turning it on now rather than, oh god, later.” She pulls Dani into her arms.

“Firebug, the last time I did that you knocked the lamp over.” Dani kisses her, smiling as she does and working the toy in short thrusts that send the ridges on it over her clit. 

“Hooolyshit.” Aubrey kisses her hard, tongue running along her lips trying to memorize the shape of them, one hand cupping and teasing at Dani’s chest as best she can (damn sweatshirt). Dani moans, Aubrey’s favorite sound in the world after her laugh, and presses the toy against her, working it with the palm of her hand so Aubrey can more easily grind on it. She comes with whine, kissing messily along Dani’s neck.

Her girlfriend clicks the toy off, setting aside as she continues kissing her, the intensity decreasing as Aubrey’s breathing evens out again.

“Hee, you taste like sunshine.”

“You get so goofy after you come.” Dani gives her a bunny-kiss.

“Yeah, and you love me for it.”

“You bet I do, cutie-pie. Still wanna walk with me to the station?”

Aubrey kisses her again because she can, because she’s there and she loves her and she’ll never get tired of showing her that, “Of course.”  
\------------------------------------------------  
“You know, Barclay, I do really like how your clothes look on me.” Stern rubs the sleeve of the red flannel shirt fondly, “But I think mine look even better on you, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Uhmph.” Barclay manages through the tie currently acting as a gag. It, along with the tie on his wrists to keep his hands behind his back, and the one on his neck, are the only clothes he’s wearing. All three of them belong to Stern.

As far as Stern’s concerned, right now Barclay belongs to him too. 

His boyfriend (they’d made it official a few weeks ago, and it hasn’t escaped Sterns notice that Barclay calls him it every chance he gets) is seated in the chair in his living room, Stern straddling his lap and facing away from him, wearing only the borrowed shirt. 

“Well, Barclay, do think you’ve earned my going away gift?”

The answer is, predictably, muffled.

“I said” his voice goes clipped as he yanks the tie he's holding in his hand, forcing Barclay to hunch forward, “do you think you’ve earned it?”

This time it’s a whine rather than an attempt at words, beard tickling his neck as Barclay nuzzles him pleadingly. Stern turns to meet his eyes, smiles as he runs a hand along his lips and chin.

“You did suck me off rather well, although you made a mess of yourself in the process, getting my come all over your face like that.” He makes a face to suggest he may consider this a point against the larger man. 

Another whine and Stern cups his cheek.

“I know, big guy, you like doing that and you get a bit messy. I think that enthusiasm deserves a reward, don’t you?”

Barclay nods eagerly, smiling around the gag, and Stern pats his cheek once before turning back around to focus on the task at hand. He’d already gotten Barclay hard and slipped the condom on prior to this last bout of tormenting, Barclays hands are bound as a result of him not obeying the command to leave the plug Stern is wearing alone. 

Stern guides his cock into place, Barclay gasping as soon as it presses against his ass. He focuses on relaxing, not an easy task as his boyfriends' thighs are quivering against his own and his own body is begging him to just take it already.

Even with being stretched from the plug, when the head pushes past the tight ring of muscle he hisses, core and legs tightening. Then he laughs as Barclay nuzzles the back of his neck soothingly, a rumbling, happy moan coming from his chest. 

He makes it halfway down before needing to pause. It aches in the best way imaginable, and as he wiggles down to take the rest Barclays forehead bumps against his shoulder, puffs of hot breath brushing his skin. He moans, loving the sensation of being so full, and feels more than hears Barclays answering groan. 

“N-now, Barclay, something I forgot to mention earlier: the knot tying your hands can be gotten out of, if you focus. But” he lifts up an inch before taking him all again, “I think you might be too distracted to get loose. If you do get free, then the pace is up to you. Until then, it’s _mine_ to set.” He yanks the tie again, Barclay gasping as he jolts as fast as he dares up and down on his cock, savoring the heat and drag of it inside him. 

“That’s it, oh lord, that’s so good, god, I, I need to get my fill of you, so it won’t be too bad going a week without my favorite toy.” He pulls the tie again, forcing Barclay as flush against him as their positions allow. The moan he gets in response is low and broken, and when he glances behind him the corners of the gag are darkened with damp from Barclay desperately mouthing at them. 

“You like that, Barclay? Like the idea of existing for nothing beyond my pleasure?” He smirks, watching the pupils in those deep brown eyes dilate when his tone grows mocking.

“Uhhumph, o uch.”

“Barclay, I can’t continue if you don’t answer me clearly” Stern tuts. 

“Uck ou.” 

Stern pulls nearly all the way off and then stops, holding as still as he can, the threat of stopping entirely sending a stream of garbled apologies around the gag.

“I’ll be very disappointed if you move.” 

He fists his hand into Barclays hair and pulls his head back abruptly. Barclay cries out, shaking but managing not to jerk up into Stern in response. As he’s slackens his grip on his hair, Stern drags his nails up those thick, tan legs. This gets a curse, but still not movement, though he can see Barclay straining with effort. He rotates through a few times, scratching and pulling, Barclay whimpering with the effort from staying still. Slowly he starts moving up and down again, Barclay shutting his eyes in bliss. 

“It’s intoxicating to have you like this, Barclay. All that strength, all that bulk, and you turn into a desperate mess simply _begging_ for a firm hand as soon as I look at you. How lucky I am to have such an obedient-”

Two large hands grab his hips. 

Huh, apparently his eyes were shut in bliss _and_ in concentration. 

They tip forward gracelessly, Stern catching himself on his hands and knees. In three perfect beats, the ties hit the floor beside him.

“Much better” Barclay growls, grabbing his ass greedily. Stern pushes back into the touch with a sigh.

“Now, what were you saying about a firm” he squeezes tightly, “hand?”

“You heard me perfectly well.” Stern smiles at him over his shoulder, “And since you got out of your bonds, you can claim your reward-OHlordoh_fuck_, jesus, Barclay.” Strands of the rug catch on his nails as Barclay fucks him into it, his body jolting with every pounding thrust. His boyfriend paws at him with one hand, holds his hip tight with the other.

“You know how to work me up babe, goddamn, fuck, your ass feels so fucking amazing.”

Stern offers small bursts of sighs at the praise, the force of Barclays movements meaning every sound comes out in pieces, licking Barclays hand when it skates up his neck and strokes his cheeks.

“Your ass looks so good with my dick in it, gonna, shit, gonna start manhandling you soon as you walk into the room, make you take it like this every fucking day.”

Stern moans, allows himself a moment to revel in the image as Barclay continues, “Gonna take me every which way babe, gonna fuck you so good you’ll be on your goddamn _knees_ begging to take it up the ass.”

“I said, ahhn, you could set the pace, not that you could brag.”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Asks the growl in his ear.

“If you don’t behave, I won’t sext you at all while I’m away.”

Barclay freezes. 

“And I won’t let you cum anywhere remotely near me tonight.”

The change is instantaneous. 

“I’ll, I’ll behave babe, please, fuck, I’m, I’m so close Joseph, gonna fucking pass out if you don’t let me come.”

“I’m prepared to run that risk.” Stern replies lightly.

“Fuck, please, pleasepleaseplease” he’s peppering Sterns back and arms with kisses, whimpering in between his words. Stern ought to hold out a bit longer, given how much they both enjoy it when he makes Barclay grovel. But he has a weakness for soft kisses along his back, for the way Barclay whispers his name like an offering.

“Alright baby, you can come, but I better here a-”

“Thank you” Barclays arms are now next to his own on the floor, his mouth pressed to Sterns neck as he pumps his hips in short, animalistic jerks, “thankyoubabe, thankyouthankyou, oh fuck, fuck, Joseph, I’m” he doesn’t finish, cuts off into a rough groan as he buries himself all the way, little whines leaving him as he comes. Stern idly wishes he’d gotten his test results back from the clinic before now; he’d dearly like to feel that wonderful cock spilling inside him. 

“Whooof” Barclay pulls out, flopping back against the bottom of the chair. Stern sits up, stretches his shoulders as he turns to climb into his embrace. 

“Well, I’m certainly going to feel that on the plane ride home.”

“Hey, it was your idea. I’m just an accomplice.” Barclay grins teasingly and Stern kisses him with a chuckle. 

“True.” He stands, picks up his phone to check the time and sighs, “damn it, I have to call my ride soon.”

“You wanna shower first then?” Barclay tosses the condom in the trash, wraps his arms around him again.

“No, you should, I still have a bit of time to spare. Um” he looks down, willing his blush to stop, “would you mind if I borrowed a shirt of yours to take with me? As something to remember you by while I’m away. I know it's only a week, thanks to Hayes needing me back, but, well, I'd still like it.”

“Of course, babe.” Barclay kisses the top of his head and disappears into the bathroom. 

Stern walks to the closets, thumbing through the available shirts. He doesn’t want to take something Barclays uses often, or might need for work, and so he searches towards the back. Finding a blue and black plaid one that’s soft to the touch, he pulls it off his hanger. 

Hanging behind it is a jacket, brown and perfectly mundane. Except it has several pins and patches on it. Pins and patches Stern recognizes, their configuration all too familiar in his mind.

The water shuts off and he jumps, moves back from the closet in a hurry. Says nothing when Barclay comes back, simply smiles and kisses him as he heads into the shower. He’ll think about it more later, when he’s on the plane, when he’s bored at dinner, and they’ll talk about it when they get back. 

Because that jacket, with those items on it, was last worn by the man he’s looking for. It belongs to B.Amnesty.  
\-----------------------------  
It’s Christmas Eve, and Duck’s fucking around on his phone when the text pops up.

_Indrid: Video call?_

_Duck: Sure_

Moments later, Indrids face is grinning at him on the small screen. Going by the rustic walls in the background, he must be staying in the lodge for the night. Duck’s glad; it means he won’t be alone, means he’ll be with people who care about him. 

“I know it’s a bit late where you are but I opened the gift and, oh goodness, Duck it’s so much, you didn’t have to, it was so _sweet_.”

“Gettin the feelin you liked it.” He giggles when Indrid raises his eyebrows in fond exasperation.

“It’s wonderful, but, well, I didn’t, I don’t have anything for you in return.”

“Hey, I got all that for you because I wanted to, goofus, not because I wanted somethin for myself.”

“ But it must have been expensive-”

“‘Drid, it’s mostly candy and Capri Sun.” 

“I meant these” he holds up the stack of notebooks and the box of pens, “they’re high-quality, the pens are too, I didn’t need this for my silly sketches.”

“Didn’t get ‘em just for that. Remember how you said drawin helps you organize the future visions? Got you those to use to help you do that. You can re-use the notebooks because you can just add new sheets to ‘em, and I figured havin nice pens might make it, I dunno, feel less like a chore? Drawin ain’t my area of expertise, lord knows.”

“I….” Indrid is looking at the supplies, doesn’t look up when he says, “what about the earring?”

“Reminded me of you. Cause, uh, it matches your tattoo and all.” 

“Did you know it glows in the dark?”

“Uhhhhh” Duck fiddles with the twin stud on his ear, which is glowing in the dark of his room. If Indrid sees that he’s wearing it, he doesn’t say so. He just wanted something to remember Indrid by while he was away.

“It’s so charming. I used to have glow in the dark stars in my room, and they always made me so happy. This reminds me of that and I love it.”

“I’m glad.” Duck smiles fondly, heart glowing right along with his earring at the look on Indrids face. 

“I, uh, suppose I ought to let you go.”

“Yeah.” Duck murmurs, not meaning it in the slightest.

Indrid doesn’t hang up.

“Want me to show you around my house?” Duck offers.

“Please.” Indrid looks relieved. 

“Okay, uh, so this is my room.” Duck spins the camera so Indrid can take it in. He feels a bit silly at first, speaking in a hushed voice into the phone so as not to wake his family as he shows Indrid the hallway, the kitchen, the tree, and anything else he can think of. Indrid matches his tone, laughing quietly at his jokes, asking him a dozen questions in that distinctly-Indrid way, the way that makes Duck feel like he’s the most interesting guy who ever lived. 

Eventually he’s curled up on the couch in a blanket, having raided the Christmas cookies in the kitchen, eating as Indrid tells him about the celebration at the lodge, about the very sweet Rottweiler he met at work, about Winnies enjoyment of the catnip duck he bought her, about how much he hates working the morning shift at the coffee shop on Christmas Eve.

Duck’s not sure if he falls asleep first, or if Indrid does, or if they fall asleep at the same time, phones resting close as they talk in increasingly yawn-filled voices. But he does know that for the first time in years, he cannot wait to go back to school.


	14. Coming Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck comes home. Stern comes to conclusions. Indrid comes to a realization.

January comes in a rolling grey of Tule fog, the kind that makes Indrid want to head under his blankets and not emerge until June. Yet here he is, the week before the semester begins, waiting for the bus while the cold seeps into his bones. 

The fog also makes it hard to see more than a few feet in front of him, which is not helping the creeping anxiety that something is watching him. A future flickers and for the first time he gets a sense that it’s a _someone_. 

The hiss of bus brakes sends him jumping backwards. The doors wheeze open and a throng of returning students pour out into the cold, filling the grey evening with welcome noise. He tries to give them space, craning his neck for-

“‘Drid?” 

“Duck!”

“Were you waitin out here just for me?” Duck sets his bag down, only for Indrid to pick it up as they turn towards the apartment. 

“Yes. It was so glum and dreary that I, well, I thought you might like a friend to meet you when you got back.”

Duck smiles his way and Indrid stubs his toe on the pavement, distracted by how handsome Duck looks when he’s happy.

He fills Indrid in on his trip home as they walk, greeting Winnie by scooping her up into his arms and squishing her and she "murps" and whack his nose with her paw.

“Goddamn it’s miserable out. And I gotta go grocery shoppin if I want to eat somethin other than ramen for dinner.”

“Would you like to order pizza? My treat. I managed not to have work today and wouldn’t mind hearing more about your trip.”

“Sounds a hell of a lot better than draggin my ass to the store.” Duck unpacks as Indrid orders, perched on the bed with Winnie in his lap. Soon they’re sprawled out on the mattress, blankets tossed over them messily as they eat and watch whatever nature documentaries they haven’t already seen. Indrid scoots closer to Duck with every episode, but that's just for the warmth. He swears.

“Any luck with the job hunt?”

“Few leads. Hopin' to have one by the time school starts. Thank fuck Thacker lobbied hard to make sure Juno and I actually make a decent amount as interns.”

“I’m glad as well. Do you think you get to lead more tours this semester?” Indrid rolls on his side to watch Duck rather then screen.

“Think so. Might do a fun one on nocturnal critters.” Duck reaches out, brushes Indrids hair from his eyes. He’s so cozy, and between Ducks continued, light touches and the British voice onscreen, he’s nearly asleep.

“What time you gotta be up tomorrow?”

“Four am.”

“‘Kay, I’ll set my alarm for then in case we doze off.”

“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful.”

“Anythin for you dar-, uh, ‘Drid.” 

Indrid can’t prove it, but he’s fairly sure that when he drops off to sleep, Ducks hand is holding his.   
\----------------------------------  
Tuesday of the first week and Duck has scored a way to bring in a little extra cash. Better yet, all he has to do to earn it is sit still. He finds the classroom and approaches the teacher, a woman with frizzy hair and many layers of flowing clothing.

“Uh, hi, I’m Duck, we chatted over email?”

“Ah, right on time!” The woman claps her hands together, “let me show you where you’ll be posing.” She leads him to a spot in the center of two dozen easels and desks. 

“Good morning class. As you’ve all read the syllabus and this is an _ advanced_ course, I’m trusting you all to know what you’re here for, and I want to begin right away because we have a lot to cover this semester. I’d also like you all to meet Duck, one of the main people who will be modeling for us.”

There are some mumbles of acknowledgement, and most people are busy getting their supplies out, but when he turns around he sees a familiar sight: Indrid, looking more than a little apprehensive. 

He waves.

Slowly, Indrid waves back. Duck hasn’t seen him blink yet. 

He settles into his spot and his pose, shirt off. He’d told the professor he wasn’t self-conscious about his body, and for the most part he isn’t. 

He is, however, extremely conscious of the eyes on him. And it’s one particular pair that his attention keeps drifting back to. Much of the time, Indrid is concentrating on his task, gaze clinical as he looks at Duck. But once or twice he catches him looking wistfully at parts of his body that he hasn’t been instructed to capture on paper. 

Since he has nothing else to focus on, his mind wanders to the parts of his trip that he didn’t share with Indrid. The fact that Jane asked him if he and Indrid were dating because he talked about the other man so much. How there were many moments when he wished Indrid was there to experience things with him because he knew the thinner man would have enjoyed it. And how half the nights he lay in bed, eyes shut and fingerfucking himself as he thought about him. He wonders if Indrid did the same. 

It’s not that he hasn’t noticed Indrids longing glances, the way he still leans into his touch. But he’s getting the sinking feeling that, of the two of them, Indrid may be the more skittish about rekindling the romantic parts of their relationship. Which means he’ll need to be the one to take the leap. The thought terrifies him, not because he’s afraid of Indrid, but because he’s worried that if he reads things wrong it could send them all the way back to square one. 

The class ends and Duck puts his shirt back on and stretches as everyone packs up. Indrid looks at him even then, gaze lingering, and waits for him by the door for a funny little smile on his face. 

“I see you found a solution to your money worries.”

“Kinda, this ain’t gonna be enough, but it helps.” He zips up his jacket as they step outside, the sky the color of a dull dime above them. 

“I must say, you make an excellent figure to draw. You have a distinct, interesting shape.”

“Uhuh, and you ain’t sayin that just cause you like oglin me.” Duck smirks, and Indrid blushes, looking down at his Converse. 

“Of course not.” 

“You got anywhere to be?”

“Not for an hour. And yes, since you’re about to ask, I’d like to get coffee until then.”

“Can’t believe how much I missed havin someone finish my thoughts before I think ‘em. It’s like hangin out with a magic eight ball.” Duck teases and Indrid elbows him gently with a laugh as they walk arm and arm towards the warmth of the lodge.  
\------------------------------------------------------  
Stern hasn’t been this jumpy at work since his first day. But he needs to be sure no one besides him looks at the grainy security footage he’s managed to dig up. 

When B.Amnesty disappeared, all the UP knew was that someone had stumbled onto an operation they shouldn't have. They didn’t consider it enough of a risk to do a full investigation, but he knows from his research and from overheard conversations that a few people are still anxious about what happened and fear the person is simply biding their time. 

So Stern dug and dug until he found security footage that was demanded from nearby stores to the incident (that’s all he can find it referred to as; he doesn’t have clearance to know the truth of what was going on). Going from Amnesty's account, he didn’t go looking for whatever secrets he found, so it stands to reason that if he was in any footage from early in the day, he wouldn’t be taking measures to hide himself. 

And there, in the footage from a gas station, is Barclay. The jacket he’s wearing is the same one Stern found in the closet, the one he knows from his fanboy days belongs to the author he’s been searching for. 

He buries the disc containing the footage as far in his desk as he can, the gears in his mind turning so fast they give off sparks. 

What does he do now? The thought of revealing Barclay’s identity to his employers makes him ill. But so does the thought of surrendering all the work he’s put in for the sake of his foolish heart. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, flipping back and forth between his contacts. 

Then he settles on one, and makes a call.   
\-------------------------------  
Indrid pulls the slip of paper from the basket his teacher passes around. Each paper contains an emotion that will be the guiding theme of the person who picks its portfolio for the class. 

When he opens his, a dozen futures reset in his mind, most of which involve a certain handsome friend who lives two floors above him. As he stares at the word, rubbing his temples, all he can think is

_This is going to be the death of me._


	15. Talk It Out(?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid needs help. Duck is only sort-of helpful.

“You still hung up on gettin 'pleasure' as your word for that assignment?” Duck slides a mug to Indrid as they sit at his coffee table, Winnie batting a spare pencil around the floor. 

“Yes. I’ve already got ‘Barclay eating a cinnamon roll’ and ‘Aubrey looking at Dani’ as ideas."

“You sure that second one counts as pleasure and not, I dunno, love?"

“I’m stretching my definitions a bit. But I need seven altogether for this. Which is why I have, um, a favor to ask.”

“Shoot.” Duck grabs a highlighter for his notes.

“Would you be willing to pose for me for this. I, uh, I can pay you-”

“‘Drid, you know you don’t gotta do that. I wanna help you out.”

“Let me finish: I’d want to draw you while you’re masturbating. Just your face, of course not, uh, anything else.”

Duck twirls the highlighter in his fingers, considering his answer; he wants to help Indrid, that’s true. But he also wants to see if he can maybe nudge things back in the direction they were heading before the big fight.

“Sure, don’t see why not. Ain’t like you ain’t seen my junk before.”

“You're quite sure you’d be comfortable doing it?”

“Course. I trust you, and I know you won’t make it weird or try anythin.”

He doesn’t add that if Indrid did try something, Duck would be extremely thrilled. 

Indrid sighs in relief, “Thank you so much Duck, this is going to help immensely.”

“No problem.” They study for a bit longer, conversation moving on to various other topics. As Duck waves bye to Indrid at the end of the night, he can’t help but wonder if Indrid has really thought about what he might be getting into.   
\-----------------------  
What has he gotten himself into?

Duck is getting comfortable on the couch in his apartment as Indrid pulls out his sketching supplies, Winnie corralled in the kitchen so she can't interrupt. 

He considered many other ideas, and even looked at futures to see if looking elsewhere for this drawing had better outcomes. But he always circled back to Duck. Sometimes it was because he told himself that his teacher would want to know why he’d left out such an obvious variation on pleasure and mark him down if he didn't have. Or that doing it from memory, or from a photo reference, wouldn’t work well enough.

Deep down, in that part of himself he’s doing his best to ignore, he knows it’s for the same reason he sat down in that study room even when he foresaw it leading to a fight; he wants the less likely futures, the good ones. The ones where he ends his day with his face between Ducks legs. The futures that his body craves, but that his mind has a dozen reasons to avoid. What’s worse, Duck’s selected his magic wand as his weapon of choice and Indrid is dying to watch it press against his body. 

He drags a chair over so he’s sitting by Ducks head, right as Duck pulls his boxers off. 

“Right, how should I do this?”

“You’ll need to edge yourself if I’m to have enough time to draw, but other than that just pretend I’m not here.” His voice is prim, as he can head off the strangeness of what’s about to happen by being polite. 

“So I should just do what I’d do if you weren’t here?”

“Yes. Isn’t that what I just said?”

“Just checkin.” Duck turns to grin at him and there is trouble in every inch of his smile. 

A _click_ as Duck turns on the wand, and then a soft “nnh” as he presses it to his folds.

Indrid keeps his eyes on Ducks lips to start with, the way they curve into a half smile and part with short gasps. The way he knows how it feels to catch those gasps in his mouth.

No, no, okay, focus on somewhere else then, there are so many features he can start with instead. Ducks eyes, the way they squeeze shut, the little lines that emerge at their edges at the same time his back arches of the couch.

He only makes it through an initial outline of the right eye before he has to cross his legs, his cock insistent, tenting his grey pajama pants. The sketchpad isn’t enough to hide it, can do nothing to stop the pre-cum that’s staining the cloth. 

Indrid redoubles his efforts on his drawing, thanks the heavens Ducks eyes will be closed throughout this process so he can run to the bathroom and stroke himself raw while the other man is still distracted by coming down from his orgasm. 

The unhelpful part of his mind wonders what Duck is picturing behind his eyelids, what friend or ex or celebrity is shoving their cock where his ought to be.

“‘Drid” The word is a breathy whine.

_Snap_.

The pencil he’s using is split halfway down its faded black length. Goodness, had he been pressing that hard?

He picks up a new one.

“‘Drid, please.” Duck moans, and the pencil hits the floor with a dull clatter. When he hazards a glance, Ducks eyes are still shut tight, as if he hasn’t noticed Indrids fumbling in the slightest. Maybe he’s not doing it on purpose, maybe he’s so caught up in his fantasy he’s forgotten the star of it is beside him.

“‘Drid, fuck, you feel so fuckin good.” The last word is a groan accompanied by an exaggerated arch of his hips (showing off his ass) and that same, up-to-no-good smile. 

The sketchpad thwacks onto the floor as Indrid stands up, fleeing towards the kitchen. He makes it to the end of the couch before Ducks eyes open.

“Everythin okay?”

“You know perfectly well that it isn't.” Indrid spins to face him, all the breath leaving his lungs when he finds Duck still toying with himself with the wand. 

“You said to do what I’d do at home. This is what I’d do.” Those mismatched eyes are so shining so bright they burn him.

“For goodness sake Duck, please, I can’t take it, I can’t stand the idea that you still want the imaginary me but not the real me and will you _turn that blasted thing off_?”

Duck turns the wand up instead, “When did I say anythin about that bein the case?”

“You, I-” He’d have better luck forming his sentences were he not transfixed by the fact he can see how slick Duck is from here, his legs spread and dick hard, an invitation to a party Indrid is doomed to watch from outside on the street.

“Besides, seems like you want me just as much as I want you.” He nods at Indrids unhelpfully hard cock. 

“Of course I am, that’s the problem” Indrid gestures wildly in the air, “I want you so much it hurts, but we agreed no sex or dating until we both felt ready for it and you haven’t suggested you are."

“Darlin, what exactly do you think I’m doin now?” 

All the wheels in his mind screech to halt at once as he parses that sentence. 

And then, just like his pencil, he snaps.

With a low chuckle, he shakes his head and advances on Duck, “I suppose I’ve been a bit oblivious-”

“No shit.”

“But you’re just maddening sometimes.” He grabs the wand, turning it off and dropping it on the floor, “you insist on solving problems in the strangest ways.” He grips Ducks thick, wonderful thighs and shoves them apart, only pulling his hand back to yank his waistband down, tucking it beneath his balls because he doesn't have time to get them all the way off. 

Duck is practically salivating at the sight. Moans in tandem with Indrid when he thrusts in all at once. The pace he sets matches the speed of his heart, and when he speaks it’s in a growl that’s foreign to his ears.

“We could have talked about this over coffee”

“AHFUCK”

“Or in my apartment.”

“Fuck, shit, shityeah.”

“We could’ve dealt with this any. Other.way.”

“GAHhhnnnn, fuck, ‘Drid.”

“But no, we had to do it your way, so now we’re, oh goodness, doing it _mine_." He jams his hips forward and drags his nails down Ducks chest.

“JESUSfuckinghelll” Ducks legs wrap around him. He shoves them back open.

“No, these stay like this. You wanted me to see didn’t you, see how wet you got thinking about me?”

“God, unnnnhnf”

“I want an answer you, you, _jerk_.”

Duck barks out a laugh, shaking from head to toe with giggles even as Indrids thrusts ripple up his body.

Indrid growls, dives forward and bites the skin over Ducks collarbone, snakes his hands down and around to grip his ass, forcing his hips up to take him deeper. Warm arms throw themselves around his back, Duck clinging to him as if anything that mattered, life, the universe, everything would cease to be if he let go. 

He licks over the bruise, only to bite down again a moment later, Duck keening in response. Beneath that sound, he can hear the wet thwack of skin on skin each time the base of his cock meets Ducks body. 

“Mmmmm, so good, so slick and welcoming, ohhhhh” He mouths at Ducks neck, sweat coating his lips.

“I’m so fuckin close, ‘Drid, fuck, you’re amazin, I’m gonna-”

“Oh no you don’t.” Indrid pulls out, climbs up Ducks body, “you do not get to come after being such a royal pain.”

He straddles Ducks chest, the other man sitting up slightly to pout at him.

“Sure you don’t wanna come a little higher? Missed tastin you, darlin.” He licks his lips and Indrid smiles, reaches out to cup his cheek, stroking it fondly, and then brushing his fingertips along the back of his neck. 

“As much as I love fucking your mouth….” He grabs Duck by the hair, yanking his head backwards. Brings his other hand up to his cock, gliding along it frantically. 

“Hmnnnn, gracious, I’m never using lube again. Just, oh, just going to make you spread your legs anytime I need to get my dick wet, then leave you wanting while I go and get off watching some lovely porn in which everyone behaves sensibly.” 

Duck turns his head a tad, kisses the hand still resting in his hair, “whatever you want, darlin. Just want you to feel good.”

“I do, oh god, oh yes, Duck, close your eyes."

“But I like watchin you."

Indrid slaps his hand over Ducks eyes the split second before he comes, doubled over and groaning. Watching it spatter up Ducks neck and onto his face nearly gets him hard again before he’s finished coming. Ducks tongue darting out to lick the drops that landed on his mouth doesn’t help. 

He sits, hunched over and panting, as Duck shifts up a little, looking at him with curiosity

“You okay?”

“I feel much better. And much worse.”

“Oh.” Ducks smile evaporates. 

“Duck, I, I just did something very rough to you, and I didn’t check and, oh hell, I didn’t even wear a condom.” He locks eyes with Duck, finds no panic there, only concern. 

“Hold up, let’s take this a bit at a time. Easy part first: I know I’m all clear on STIs and shit. You?”

“Likewise.” Indrid slumps, crawls off Duck and pulls his pants back up.

“That’s one worry down. Now, do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then trust me when I say if I didn’t want none of what just happened, I woulda told you.”

Indrid nods, glumly. Bitterness claws up his throat; Duck will get to once again play the comforter, reassure him, because once again Indrid is the one who messed everything up. 

“And ‘Drid? I’m real fuckin sorry. You were right, I shoulda gone about this a different way. I been wantin to go back to doin that” he gestures between their bodies, “for weeks, but every time I thought about bringing it up and possibly scarin you off, I felt sick. But that don’t excuse it. I shoulda been braver for you, shouldn’t have made you feel like you had to be the one to take the leap.”

“I can see the future, I should have been the one to make the jump anyway.”

“You put a lot of blame on yourself for things already, darlin. Howsabout you let me take the hit on this one?” Duck takes his hand, circling his thumb over the knuckles soothingly. 

“I think I can allow that.” Indrid smiles tentatively, “Do you really want to date again?”

“I missed fuckin you, missed kissin you, I had like two dozen dates I wanted to take you on before we fucked things up in the fall, so yeah, I do.”

Indrid turns to him and only had to lean forward the smallest bit before Duck is kissing him, gentle and reassuring. 

“Just promise me that if you want something, or something needs to change, you’ll just ask? I’ll do the same, of course.”

Duck crosses his heart, kisses him again to seal the pact. Indrid kisses him again after that just for the fun of it.

“Gotta say, kinda like you all dominant.”

“I, uh, I’m glad. It’s not my usual thing, but you certainly made it enjoyable.” He smiles, nuzzles Ducks cheek just as a blush rushes up it.

“You um, up for doin it again to help me come? Don’t got to if you don’t want to.”

“I would but I’m...not entirely sure I can get it up again so soon.”

“Got a solution for that, c’mon.” He helps Indrid off the couch and they walk hand in hand into the bedroom.

“Pick a strap-on, they’re in the same place as always, and use that.” Duck hops onto the bed, tosses his shirt into the hamper with a “kobe.”

Indrid opens the sex toy box, considers his options.

“I can pick whichever I want?”

“Yep, got those because I like ‘em, so there’s no duds in there.”

Indrid picks up the larger dildo, one with several thick ridges on it, and carries it to the bed. 

“On you back. Legs open.”

“You got it darlin.” Duck flops down, legs spreading with comical speed. 

“Now” Indrid shoves the toy in as deep as it can do and Duck yelps, “you like being sweet to me, don’t you Duck?”

“Shit, yeah, you know I do ohgod.”

“Then I want you to be sweet and _silent_ by letting me leave marks all over your wonderful skin without making a sound.”

“Are you, fuck, fuckin shittin me?” Ducks pupils are wide with lust. 

“Not in the slightest. Whenever you make a noise above a muffled moan, I will fuck you harder. Starting now.” He thrusts the toy suddenly and laughs when Duck scrambles to cover his mouth.

Indrid rolls onto his side so he can keep fucking him while also easily kissing and biting most of his body. Starts out with mild nips on Ducks chest, nuzzles and licks his way down to his belly. Where he proceeds to leave a massive hickey, Ducks “FUCK” clear even behind his hands.

“That was a bit too loud, sweetheart.” He speeds the toy up, puts more force behind it. 

“AH, hey no fair, it was muffled, oh, wait, shitSHITshitfuck” Duck jerks his hips in time with the toy as Indrid pounds it into him.

“I make the rules, now be a good boy and take it. Ohhh you look utterly handsome like this.” He coats Ducks neck in kisses, and being close to him like this, nuzzling him and tasting his sweat, smelling his soap, it’s like coming home. 

Hot, delicious pain shoots across his chest when Duck tugs at his piercing, and he bites down in retaliation.

“For someone who asked for dominance, you’re being awfully rude.” He growls, nipping the bruise once more for good measure. 

“Cause I want you to fuck meEEEEohfuckmefuckmefuck, ‘Drid” The moans come out as though Ducks is being punched, and Indrid sits up so he can watch his body jolt and stretch under the barrage of thrusts. 

“Darlin, please let me come, I just need a little more.”

“Hmmmm, very well, even if you’ve been a brat you have been very good at taking a variety of cocks tonight.” He kneels, bends forward, and sucks, teasing the end of Ducks dick with his tongue.

Duck grabs his head, pushing him down, “yeah, yeah like that, fuck, darlin, I wanna come on you, please, please, fuckohgod, shit, _‘Drid_.”

He’s so in the moment that he’s surprised when come actually hits him, Duck squirting as he yells wordlessly and holds Indrid in place. Indrid purrs at the feeling, and the toy hits the floor unceremoniously as he clambers up Duck to kiss him madly. Ducks mouth is slack, post-orgasm, and so Indrid claims it with his tongue, stopping only to suck his lower lip. 

When he pulls back, messily trailing spit and both of them panting like dogs, Duck manages to put a sentence together. 

“That’s only happened a few times. Sorry.”

“Duck Newton don’t you dare apologize for enjoying yourself.” Indrid plants kiss after kiss on his cheeks and forehead until the shadows of worry disappear from his face. 

They cuddle up on the sheets, Ducks head resting beneath Indrids chin, their arms and legs tangled together. 

“Wait, shit, your drawin!”

“It’s not due for several weeks. And it’s not like you can;t model for me again.”

“True. That mean we can nap?”

“Yes.”

“Oh thank fuck, I’m beat.”

Indrid laughs, ruffles his hair with one hand.

“I’m so glad you want to be together like this again.” He whispers. 

“Uhh hhmmm.” Duck sighs, wiggling down into Indrids arms.

As they doze off into their nap, Indrid hears one final thing.

“I cannot wait to be sweet to my boyfriend.”


	16. Secrets and "Whys"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stern shares a revelation. Barclay repeats himself. Duck is on cloud nine.

_Barclay: He says we need to talk. That never means ANYTHING good_

_Dani: It doesn’t mean the world is ending either._

_Barclay: Isn’t that code for break up? What if he wants to break up?_

Dani rubs her temples; she doesn’t want to dismiss Barclays fear, but she’s seen how Stern looks at him. No way in hell is he getting broken up with. 

_Dani: Pretty sure he’s wild about you, so whatever he wants to talk about I don’t think it’s a break up._

_Barclay: fuck, he’s here, I’ll text you later_

_Dani: Good luck._  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------  
Barclay turns towards the opening door with a smile, only for every nerve in his body to signal panic mode at the look on his boyfriends face. 

He doesn’t look upset, as upset requires more emotion than what’s currently there. The lines of his face are flat, his usually inquisitive eyes dull. 

“Babe? What’s wrong?” 

Stern reaches into his jacket pocket, producing a flash drive which he holds out into the air between them. 

“Take it.”

He doesn’t move a muscle.

“Barclay, please, just take it.” He repeats, pained. 

“What is it?” He reaches out, touches the drive. 

“It’s the only concrete piece of evidence proving you are B.Amnesty.”

He snatches the drive away from Stern in a hurry, half in surprise and half on pure survival instinct. Sterns' arm drops, heavy.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you have questions.” Barclay says after several agonizing moments of Stern having no reaction at all. 

“Yes. Why didn’t you tell me yourself?”

“Uhhhh, because it sounded like if I did I was gonna end up shoved into a government van and disappeared? Also, like, maybe four people know? Plus Ned. And babe I know you’re real fucking ambitious, and I wasn’t sure how you felt about me would trump that.”

The spark comes back into those blue eyes all at once. 

“You think I’d sell someone I care about out to FBI?!”

“Well, would you?”

“Wha-guh-WHAT DO YOU THINK I JUST CHOSE NOT TO DO? Do you have any idea how much I agonized over that?”

“You didn’t turn me over to a shadowy government agency. Good for you.” Barclay deadpans, crossing his arms. 

“I wasn’t going to turn you in automatically! Barclay, I, I wanted to find you so I could ask you questions, maybe get those files closed.”

“Yeah, sure,” Barclay snorts, “and you deciding not to do that once you found this evidence and opting to give it to me instead is all because you care so deeply for me, and not because you realized it wouldn’t help you secure your position in the UP”

Stern goes still again, hands balled up at his sides, “Do you really think I'm that heartless? Do you honestly not believe I love you?”

“I don’t know what to think-wait, what did you say?”

“I love you.”

“Why?”

“Why do I love you?”

“Nope. I want to know _why_ you gave me this. Because I’m having a hard time believing it was just for love.” He holds up the drive. He knows he’s being cruel, knows how much it meant to Stern to say those three little words aloud. But he can’t ignore the timing of when they were said. 

Stern slides down the wall, slumping on the floor.

“I....I have some suspicions. Not just about the incident you were involved in, but about the lengths the UP is willing to go to when it comes to containing a threat. And while they weren’t worried enough about you to come looking for you to any serious degree, if I handed evidence of your identity to them they would have...I’m not sure what they would have done. That’s part of why I couldn’t do it. Barclay, I’ve worked towards this my whole life, and now I find I don’t trust the methods of the organization I’ve dreamed of joining since I was a little kid. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

He looks up at Barclay. Stern seems so small, as if everything he loves about the man is gone, shrinking him down to some limp, lifeless version of himself. 

“And I, god, no matter how much I tried to logic myself into believing I was doing the right thing if I showed them the footage, I’d think about you, about the way you smile at me, about how safe and happy you make me feel and I knew I couldn’t do it. I love you, I love you more than everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve sacrificed for, and that is the single most terrifying realization I have ever experienced.”

Barclay steps towards him, and Stern raises a hand to stop him, “That put too much on you, I’m sorry, I don’t want you to feel guilty or somehow indebted to me for what I did. It’s just that I didn’t really think I’d ever meet someone who I wanted so strongly. This, goddammit I am not explaining myself well. I should go.” He stands hurriedly, but Barclay reaches him and puts his hands on his shoulders. 

“I got the gist of it. And hey,” he cups Sterns cheeks “I love you too.”

Stern falls into his arms and he holds him, feels the tension drain from him inch by inch in deep, gulping breaths. 

“Joseph, are you gonna be okay?”

“In this moment, or in the more global sense?” Sterns voice is muffled against his shirt.

“For the time being. Pretty clear you’ve been doing a lot of soul searching, not to mention learning some intense things.”

“I think so. We may have other things to discuss later but for now I think I’m okay.”

Like a safe in an old cartoon, the truth lands on Barclay: Stern chose him.

“Would you say it again?” Sterns request is shy.

“I love you.” Barclay kisses the top of his head.

(He chose him)

“I love you too.”

“I love you.” He kisses his nose this time. 

(He chose him).

“Ack, I l-love you too.” Stern stammers with giggles as Barclay peppers his face with kisses.

“I loveyouIloveyouIloveyou-” He’s cut off when Stern pulls him full force into a kiss. The joy has to go somewhere, and so he picks Stern off his feet and spins them around.

“Someone’s been watching a few too many rom-coms” Stern teases.

“Nah, if that was true I would’ve waited until we were out in the rain to do that.”

His boyfriend rests against him again, head on his shoulder, sighing with contentment instead of panic-tinged relief. 

“I got about half an hour until I gotta be at work. You wanna cuddle?”

“Of course.”

As Stern is toeing his shoes off to get on the bed, he laughs nervously. 

“God, this is so strange.”

“What is?” Barclay lays down on his side, opening his arms so Stern can spoon against him.

“You’re _him_. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve read your books?”

“From how often you’ve talked about them and the fact you hauled all of them across the country for grad school, yes.”

Stern turns his head, smiling over his shoulder “I read your blog religiously, I was so disappointed when you stopped post. I kept hoping you’d do a signing somewhere, or that I’d get a chance to talk to you and share my theories, or offer to help you with research or-” He turns back around quickly, but not quick enough to hide the blush.

“Joseph…” Barclay sing-songs “what else were you hoping to do with me?”

“Nothing. That was the complete list.”

“You can tell me” He ghosts his lips across the back of Sterns neck, the other man arching against him.

“It’s embarrassing. And you’ll think I’m a creepy fanboy or something.” 

“No, I’ll think you’re my boyfriend who coincidentally had a crush on me without knowing it was me.”

Stern thinks for a moment, then says softly as he picks at Barclays shirt, “I used to fantasize about you. About going to some talk or book signing, even though you never did them, and blowing you in the bathroom. Just, letting you utterly wreck me.”

“_Jesus_.” 

“You’d hold my head and tell me I was good and, and, good lord are you hard?” He wiggles his ass and Barclay groans gratefully. 

“Getting there. Fuck, babe, here I thought you were a top through and through.”

“I am vast, I contain multitudes.” Stern quips.

“Seems like you might be angling to contain something else.”

“Very funny” Stern says dryly, slipping out of Barclays arms and onto the floor. Barclay sits up, swinging his legs over to rest his feet on the hardwood. 

Stern deftly undoes his jeans, coaxing his cock up all the way with a few, practiced strokes. Thumbs over the head lazily.

“We, ohh, don’t have all day babe.” Barclay nudges his cock up in Sterns hand, gets the arch of a dark eyebrow in response.

“Is that any way to ask for what you want?”

“Please, babe” Barclay bats his eyelashes, “pretty please with a cherry on toAHHp, holy fucking _shit_.”

His cock is most of the way down Sterns throat in one, smooth go. There’s a hint of resistance and Stern swallows shallowly before taking him the rest of the way. Stern hums happily, nuzzles the dark, coarse hair. 

“Have you been practicing?” He might be drooling. He doesn’t care. 

Stern pulls back, Barclays moan increasing with each inch his lips reveal until he’s sitting on his heels.

“Yes. You’re always so complimentary of my cocksucking, and I got curious as to whether or not I could learn how to do that. Now” he trails his nail along the underside of his cock, “I want you to fuck my face Barclay. I’ll give our signal if it’s too much. I want you to _use_ me. Can you do that for me?” 

“Hell fucking yeah I can oh, ohfuck babe, goddamn that’s a sight.” Sterns perfect lips stretch wide as he deepthroats him again. He waits until he’s all the way down before twining his fingers into his hair, loosening it from where Stern carefully slicked it that morning. 

“Mmmmmmm” Sterns eyes flutter shut in pleasure, and ever so cautiously Barclay moves his hips back and forth, delighting in the tightness, in the thrill of little hints of resistance, the reminders that his cock is only where it is because Stern allows it. 

Soon he’s controlling the upstrokes, pulling Stern farther and father up his shaft, moaning every time, before letting him drop back down, the wet sounds only growing as spit seeps from the corners of Sterns mouth. 

Sterns hands a petting his thighs, gliding along his stomach, when they flex in surprise as he lets out a choked sound. Barclay stops in an instant, waiting for the signal to pull out if he needs to. Instead, those blue eyes snap open and flash. A growl vibrates its way from Sterns throat to the head of his cock and he hisses. 

“Guess you really can take it.” Barclay leers and Stern huffs the way he always does when Barclay teases him in bed. 

Without warning Barclay drops back so he’s laying flat on the bed. As he does he thrusts up as hard as he can. A garbled, ecstatic moan reaches him as Sterns nails catch at the denim on his legs. 

“You’re, fuck, full of surprises babe, yeahh, fuck yeah. Thought all you needed was to be the boss, shit, but turns out you need to choke on my cock to remember where you really belong.” He yanks Sterns head up and down violently, rapidly.

“Yeah, you like that, like having my dick so far down you can hardly breathe” he pulls Sterns hair,a yelp joining the stream of wet, gagging, squelching moans.

“That’s it babe, you’re so good. You take it so fucking good, yeah, like that, like thatfuck, doing so good Joseph, shit_shit_, I’m gonna come.” His orgasm is building fast, and he has a decision to make. 

“Could pull out, come all over that incredible face but, fuck, think I wanna come inside instead, make you swallow every fucking bit, make you take everything I give you ohgod, fuck, babe,you keep saying you wanna taste me, you’re gonna get a real fucking good taste.” With a heavy, happy groan he comes, holding Sterns head down even as he splutters, the feeling of him struggling to do what he’s told making Barclays toes curl. It’s only when he pulses out the last of it that he lets go. 

Stern sits up with a cough, gasping and moaning, wiping come and spit from his mouth as tears glide down his cheek. Barclay doesn’t so much sit as thud down onto the floor to join him. 

“That was, you are” he’s panting, so high on the cocktail of post-orgasm hormones and the stars in Sterns eyes that sentences are an impossible order to fill.

“Incredible, good lord Barclay that was just what I wanted.” Stern, a little woozy looking himself, manages to lean in for a kiss. 

“Good, it’s good that it was. You are also good. So good.”

“Oh dear, did I fuck your brains out big guy?”

“Mmmmhmmm” Barclay kisses him, rests his head at the crook of his neck and breathes in his drugstore aftershave. 

“You should probably get ready for work.”

“Mmhhmmmm, uh, wait, do you want me to get you off?” Barclay blinks dreamily at him. 

“Consider that what you can look forward to doing after your shift.” Stern bites his lip before kissing him again. Barclay growls playfully, pulling him into a hug.

“I love you so fucking much.” 

“I love you too.”  
\-------------------------------------------------  
It’s late February and Duck Newton can’t remember a time when the grey, foggy days made him happier. Because those grey, foggy days are the days when Indrid wakes up next to him almost every morning, the days they spend together, sometimes with friends or sometimes just the two of them, just doing homework or watching movies or curling up together to read. 

The days when Indrid molds his body to Ducks when they walk arm in arm, the days when his eyes light up at some little thing Duck does for him, the days he makes Duck feel like he could take on the world. The days where Duck tries to be the best version of himself, because he wants to be the man Indrid thinks he is.

There was also a very enjoyable Valentines Day thrown in, during which he and Indrid stayed in bed, alternating between cuddling, napping, and fucking each other silly, for half a day.

The only reason Duck is not currently studying for his test while in the arms of his boyfriend is because Indrid has to work. The coffee-shop is test running a 24-hour model, and Indrid had the bad luck of getting a weird evening shift. 

He dozes off on the couch surrounded on all sides by his notes, dreaming of wiry arms holding him close. 

A knock on the door wakes him up, his clock showing 1:30 am. It must be Indrid, probably having had a bad vision. He doesn’t even bother pulling on his sweatpants before he answers the door; not like Indrid hasn’t seen him in his boxers.

“Hey darlin, what’s wrong-wait, what the fuck are you doin here?”

And then Duck doesn’t see, hear, or wonder anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .......to be continued in a week or so. I need to make sure the remaining plot bits make sense, and do two other reader requests that are waiting for me. I'm also doing some Promptober stuff over on my Tumblr.


	17. Things Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck is in trouble, Indrid is worried, and someone may be in over their head.

Duck comes too in what seems to be a bedroom, clothes hung neatly in the closet and a few books on the floor. His hands are tied behind his back. And, annoyingly, he’s still in his boxers. 

Okay, he’s read enough books and seen enough movies to know there are plenty of household items that can cut through ropes. He just has to find one. There’s nothing on the dresser, so he rolls towards the bed and peers under it, hoping to find scissors or something with a sharp edge.

“Clever idea, mate, but not gonna work.”

He starts, bangs his head, and rolls back to find someone he recognizes. A tall, tattooed man who usually hangs around the Cryptonomica. Boyd, that’s what he’s heard Ned call him.

“What the fuck man? Is this some kind of joke?”

“Not in the slightest.” Boyd leans against the door, “It ain’t personal either, in case you’re wonderin. But I’m a man in need of money and a clean start, and you’re my ticket to that.”

“Hate to break it to you pal, but my family ain’t exactly rollin in dough, so a ransom or some shit is a bad idea.”

Boyd laughs, shakes his head, “You’re right, there’s not a lot I can get holding you hostage. But you ain’t the end goal. Your little boyfriend is.”

Ducks stomach twists, “What d’you mean?”

“There’s some folks who’d pay good money for him on account of the whole can-see-the-future thing. But that same talent makes him hard to catch. I oughta know, tailed him a few times and never had an openin. But then I says to myself, “Boyd, why waste time tryin to get to him, when you can make the bugger come to you?”

Oh fuck, oh no, oh no, oh no.

“Then I says to myself, ‘why would someone who could see a trap comin come to it anyways. And then” he snaps his fingers as if getting an idea “it occurs to me that all you need to make a trap work” he levels Duck with a steely gaze “is the right bait.”  
\-------------------------------------  
The banging on Aubrey’s door is so loud she’s amazed the whole lodge isn’t awake by the time she opens it.

“Wha-Indrid? What’s wro-”  
“Duck, he took Duck, he wants me and he has Duck instead!” Indrid looks like a frazzled, panicking heron, which would be funny if he didn’t look ready to burst into tears. 

“Who took Duck?” Dani is beside Aubrey, hand on her shoulder.

“The, the friend of Neds, he took him because he wants me. Or, well, someone else wants me but he wants to be the person who hands them over to me.”

“Shit, okay, we should call the cops right?” Dani looks at the other two.

“I ran those futures in my head and they don’t listen to us, or Boyd spots them coming and hides Duck somewhere they can’t find him.”

Then let’s get Mama-” Aubrey is already throwing on clothes and shoes

“I tried, she’s not here.”

“We should get Barclay, then. Stern too. The more of us who come with you, the better.” Dani tosses on her coat.

“You know this is super definitely a trap, right?”

“Yes” Indrid keeps looking around nervously, “but I don’t think he’s expecting me to bring help. And I’m fairly certain he won’t hurt Duck. But we need to move fast.”

“Right there with you.” Aubrey shuts the door, locks it, “Come on, let’s go save our friend.”  
\---------------------------------  
“Does Ned know about this?” Duck has only now given up on trying to get out of the ropes, is hunched on the floor scowling at his captor. 

“Oh yes, he knows. Knew what he had to do to keep it from happenin too.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Boyd stands up at a leisurely pace, “Hell, that may be him now, finally seeing reason.” He peers out the keyhole, then grins at Duck, “oh no, it’s much better than that.”

He opens the door with a flourish. There, in the dim light of the porch, is Indrid. It feels like being in a goddamn horror movie, he can see what’s coming and knows he can’t stop it.

He tries anyway. 

“‘Drid, no, run, for fucks sake don’t come in here!”

Indrid smiles sadly at him before speaking to Boyd.

“‘Hello, Mr.Mosche. I believe you’ve been looking for me?”

“Damn right, sonny-boy. Now, come in. You’re lettin the warm air out.” 

Indrid steps into the room, never looking away from Duck. Boyd unties the shorter man, pushes him towards the door. 

“Wait” Indrid holds out a hand towards his boyfriend, “may I at least say goodbye?”

Something odd flickers across Boyds face, and then he nods. 

Indrid embraces Duck, but doesn’t kiss him. Instead he whispers, “open the door” and then lets him go. Turns to face Boyd once more.

“I hope you realize, Mr. Mosche, that I have no intention of staying.” 

“Like hell you ain’t stayin.” Boyd takes a step closer as Duck throws the door open. 

Aubrey is through it first, Dani close behind with a can of pepper spray in her hand. Stern is next, baseball bat slung over his shoulders, and Barclay comes last.

“As I said, I will not be staying.” Indrid steps next to Duck, taking his hand. 

Boyd looks, begrudgingly, impressed, “Didn’t think you lot had it in you to threaten a bloke, but here we are. Fine, run along, I’m sure we’ll meet again. You can’t stay alert forever.”

“Boyd, what in the pluperfect hell is going on?”

“Ned!” Duck turns to see the older man step through the door, looking disgruntled, “What the fuck? Were you in on this? Because he made it sound that way.”

Ned holds up his hands placatingly, “I assure you, Duck, I was not. Boyd made threats about what he’d do if I refused to help apprehend Indrid, but I didn’t believe he’d truly follow through on them."

“Desperate times, old chum.” Boyd shrugs.

“Indeed. I suggest, my friends, that we leave my old compatriot here to think about what he’s done. Unless, Duck, you wish to report him to the authorities.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Boyd hisses, “You do that, I’ll tell the cops and the kids everything about you.”

“Everything about-wait, Ned, what does he mean?” Aubrey looks at him, worried.

“It’s alright, I’m not afraid of that threat anymore. Shall we?”

“Wait” Indrid freezes, face going blank, and Duck stops along with him.

“Don’t worry, young Indrid, all will be well.”

_Bang_

The gunshot startles Indrid from his trance, commotion erupting from all sides as Ned falls to the ground. Aubrey yells Ned’s name, gets to him even before Boyd does. 

“Don’t you take another step Aubrey!” 

Framed in the doorway is Mama, shotgun still smoking. 

“What in gods name-”

“Madeline Cobb, if he’s dead you will bloody well pay for it-"

“Oh no” Indrid clutches Ducks arm.

“Mama, please, he’s still breathing, if we get him to a hospital he might be okay.” Aubrey is staring at the older woman with frightened confusion. 

“We ain’t doin anythin of the kind. Because that ain’t Ned fuckin Chicane.”

The shock silences them as the figure on the floor slowly, awkwardly rises and, to their horror, transforms.


	18. Making Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mama delivers some exposition, Stern has an idea, and Indrid sees what's coming.

It’s sickening, the shift and shudder of skin and what’s inside it, the way the whatever-the-hell-it-is smiles at them the whole time. 

When it sets into a new shape, it’s not someone any of them recognize; a young woman with short, straight dark hair. She snarls once in Mama’s direction and then without batting an eye, breaks through the window and out into the night.

“Let it go, Arlo” Mama calls out the door, “ain’t lettin grab two of you in one night.”

Thacker steps into the small apartment, sharp walking stick in one hand and a hunting knife strapped to his side. 

Mama regards the group, all in varying stages of shock and horror.

“Well, I wager you all got some questions.”

Duck raises his hand, “Yeah, any chance someone can loan me a pair of pants?”  
\--------------------------------------------  
A half hour later, in the safety of the lodge, the three couples along with Thacker, Mama, and Boyd (under some duress and threat of bodily harm from Mama) are seated around one of the large, circular tables. 

Mercifully, Barclay had pants Duck could wear. 

He hasn’t let go of Indrid since the skinnier man grabbed his arm back at Boyds'. All he knows right now is that someone, somewhere, wants to take Indrid away. And he isn’t about to let that happen. Not on his watch. 

“Right” Mama stands rather than sits, hands on the back of her chair “puttin it bluntly: there used to be a way for monsters, abominations as we call ‘em, to get from their world into ours. Two years ago, we finally got rid of the door that was lettin ‘em come through. Door was an hour up north, in the middle of fuckin nowhere, thank god. Everyone followin me so far?”

Duck nods along with everyone else. 

“We were so goddamn close to it turnin out fine. Then the feds got wind, sent a crew up to deal with the threat, expect they had no fuckin idea how to actually deal with these things. They wanted to be stealthy, but you could see that tent of theirs from space.”

“Wait, tent? Mama, was this-”

“Yeah, Barclay, it was. That same set-up you stumbled on that made you give up writin was the one makin our lives our real damn difficult. Long story short, these abominations get stuck within a mile of where they come through, but only for a week. After that they can break loose. FBI runnin around meant we couldn’t get this one before it broke out.”

“But, I read the case file on that incident. Erm, well, the amount of the file I had access too, and it said the threat was dealt with.”

“The _gate_ was dealt with” Thacker grumbles “FBI blew the damn thing up. But they didn’t catch on to the abomination, on account of it bein a mimic.”

“So it’s been running around stealing peoples faces for YEARS?” Aubrey is in Dani’s lap at this point, both women looking exceedingly concerned. 

“That’s the thing; Thacker and I tracked it for awhile after it broke that radius, and then the damn thing went underground. Didn’t show it’s face, thought we maybe had starved it out or somethin and it had died. No such luck. When we noticed those disappearances happenin, we feared the worst."

“And we were right.” Thacker adds, shaking his head, “thought we had it cornered tonight but it split us up and nabbed Ned out from under our noses. Didn’t catch it until we were headin back into town.”

“How could you tell it wasn't really Ned?” Boyd looks unconvinced.

“You ever known Ned Chicane to turn down a chance to advertise whatever bullshit he's sellin to someone?” Mama shoots back.

“No.”

“We passed by a bunch of visiting families and he didn’t stop to tell 'em about the Cryptonomica even once.”

"He's not dead though, right, Mama?" Aubrey asks quietly. 

"I don't think so. But I can't make any promises. All we can do is hope we can know he's really Ned and not that fuckin abomination when we find him."

“Sooo, can’t we outsmart the fuckin thing by askin it questions only the real Ned could answer?” Duck looks towards Mama.

“Wish it were that simple, but it seems to be able to take on your memories too when it nabs you.”

“Well, fuck.” He’s now doubly glad he hasn’t been out of Indrid's sight since they reunited.

“Do you know where it’s hiding?” Barclays knee is bouncing. 

“It’s gotta be somewhere it could keep the people it’s taken hidden, and keep itself hidden if it had to. We already eliminated most of the park, all of campus, and any spot where Ned noticed more than a few undercover cops or feds hangin around.”

“What about the former test site?”

Everyone turns to look at Stern, who continues “out on the south end of town, past all the ag testing fields, there used to be a site that was specifically related to research the university was doing in conjunction with the FBI.”

“The radioactive beagle place? Thought that was a myth.”

“That’s what most people think, Duck. But I happen to know it was very real, and the remains of the structure are still out there. No idea why they were trying to make glowing beagles at one point, though.”

“Joseph’s correct.” Indrid says softly, “if I follow the futures where we go to that site, the mimic is there.”

Mama is already moving, unlocking a storage closet that Duck’s never seen open before, “Then we oughta move fast, see if we can surprise it. Any of you know how to use a gun?”

Stern and Barclay both raise their hands.

“Barclay, I know for a fact you ain’t handled one since you were 18.”

Barclay lowers his hand, only for Mama to put the handle of an axe into it.

“Indrid, how do you feel about comin with us and usin those powers of yours?”

“I would be, well, not exactly _glad_ to, but I want to help end this thing before it harms anybody else.”

“Alright then, Duck’s comin too because I can already see him gearin up to argue with me if I tell him he can’t. But the rest of you are _stayin here_.”  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
“See anythin, Aubrey?” Thacker whispers from their lookout in one of the bunker-type buildings. 

“Nope. Just Boyd looking like he’s up to something.”

“Gettin the feelin that fella always looks that way.”

“I’m with Thacker on that one.” Dani adds.

They’ve all fanned out inside the long, dark hallway, peering through broken doors and around corners in hopes of spotting their quarry. Indrid is the only one not searching in the here and now, instead standing close to Duck with a blank look on his face, scanning the futures. 

He shakes his head, needing to clear it from too many visions piling up at once. The more he looks, the more he gets a sinking feeling that a bad future is barrelling towards them if they stay, but an even worse one is coming if they leave. 

Duck must see the apprehension on his face, because with a remarkably reassuring smile he whispers “don’t worry darlin', long as we all stay together, there’s only so much it can do to us.”

Indrid smiles, distracted for a moment form the storm of bad timelines swirling in his mind.

There’s a clatter as something drops from the ceiling into the middle of the hallway. Something with a burning fuse.

“Oh my lord, that’s C4!”

“What the fuck!?” Dani yells, holding her hand out towards Aubrey

“Down,” Mama yells “take cover, everyone get-”

And then the only noise in the building is a horrible, thundering, boom.


	19. Do I Know You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes are separated. Can they find each other? And if they do, can they even be sure they've found who they think they have?

Aubrey hits the ground, singed grass beneath her back and dust in her throat. 

Oh no, oh god something is on top of her, she’s gonna be crushed by a rock or a-

“Firebug?” It comes out as cough, the shape pressing her body into the ground mercifully, perfectly, familiar.

“Dani? Oh thank god, oh you’re not dead, we’re not dead.”

“Even better, we’re not apart.” Dani sits up, guiding Aubrey up too.

“Did you know what was gonna happen? Ho shit, do you have foresight too?”

“No” Dani touches her cheek, “all I had to do was think like the monster. If I was it, I’d separate us in a big way. So I made a promise to myself that as soon as I saw that happening, I’d grab onto you. And well, when Stern said it was C4, I figured that if it was going to blow us all up I wanted to be with you right until the end.”

Aubrey pulls her into a kiss, breaks a way to giggle with relief, and then kisses her again. She tastes like soot and rock, but beneath that she tastes like sunshine, just like always. 

“Ahem” The awkward sound comes from behind them, where Thacker is brushing dust from his arms. Nearby, Boyd is standing with no small amount of cursing.

“Bloody old fool, gettin his sorry self kidnapped, swear the next time I see ‘im I’ll hit him over his fuckin head for bein such a pain in my ass.”

“Hey, hey” Aubrey snaps her fingers to get Boyds' attention, “you can curse Ned’s name all you want, but you gotta do it as a multitasking thing. Because we” she points at the entrance to the bunker, now cut off from the world by a pile of debris, “are gonna have to make it so our friends have a way out.”  
\----------------------------------------------------  
Barclay catches the ground with his shoulder, then his leg, thrown into the worlds worst baseball slide, ears ringing from the blast. When he finally manages to stand up, he stumbles blindly for a few minutes until he can see. He's in some sort of abandoned laboratory. 

His heart floods with panic; Mama, Joseph, Duck, all of his friends, he can’t see them, can’t hear them. 

He listens, desperate for any clue. A voice reaches him, muttering in a way he recognizes. 

Stern.

Barclay sprints towards the sound, sees his boyfriend. He’s pacing, hands carding through his dark hair they way they always do when he’s upset. Then he pauses; could it be the mimic, trying to lure him? Does taking peoples features mean it can take their gestures, their mannerisms?

Maybe-Stern stops his pacing, head in hands.

“I’m so fired.”

That’s his boyfriend, no doubt about it. 

“Joseph!”

Stern jumps, turns his way and breaks into a smile, “Barclay! Oh thank the lord.” He moves towards him, then stops dead.

“Wait, you seem sure I’m me, but I, I don’t have a way of knowing it’s you.”

“Shit, you’re right. Okay, uh, um.” He pats his shirt, as if the proof he needs is in his pockets somewhere. 

Hang on a sec.

He reaches into his shirt pocket, pulling out a small, circular pin, which he then holds towards Stern in his fingertips. 

“I don’t think it can replicate things that aren’t our clothes or bodies. I was gonna give this to you tonight and forgot on account of uh, y’know.”

(Stern had functionally dragged him into the bedroom as soon as he got back from work earlier in the evening).

His boyfriend gazes at the pin, amazed.

“Is that a first gen cryptid crew pin?”  
“Uh huh. You said you bought one when I first started selling them on my site, and then lost yours way back when and that you wished you still had it. And now that you know who I am, I can just give you mine without having to make up some story about how I had one.”

Carefully, Stern steps within an arms reach of him. Touches the pin and plucks it from his hand. When Barclay doesn’t lunge at him or change shape, he relaxes.

“Thank the lord.” He throws his arms around Barclay, who embraces him and spins him once for good measure.

“Right” Stern says as Barclay puts him down, “any thoughts on how to proceed?”

“We oughta try to find the others. Don’t suppose you, like, memorized the layout of this place when you read about it or something?”

“No such luck. But I think we can figure it out. Together.” He takes Barclays hand, and the two of them set off out of the room and start down the dark hallway.  
\-----------------------------------------  
“Ow” Duck mutters against the ground, having flown and then rolled what feels like the length of several football fields on hard cement. 

“Ow” he says again, then adds in a “fuck” for good measure. 

He gradually gets to his feet, finds no sight or sound of anyone else. 

Well, fuck. 

He picks a hallway at random and starts down it. It slopes, telling him that he’s heading into to lower part of the bunker. Grumbling, he turns around; he needs to head up and out, not down into danger.

As he plods through the dark corridors, he catches sight of flash of silver hair.

“‘Drid?” He calls softly.

Red glasses and a worried face peer around a corner. 

“Duck?”

“In the flesh, fuck, darlin, am I glad to see you.” He steps towards him, but Indrid takes a step back. 

“I-I’m happy to see you too. If it’s really you.” 

“It is, darlin, please, can’t you tell?”

Indrid cocks his head, “Can you lie?”

“You know I can’t.” 

“No” Indrid smiles, shakes his head, “can you try to lie, right now? Here, um” he points at a cracked doorway, “lie to me about that.”

“Uh, sure. That sure is, uh, one, fuck, one real sturdy, not, fuck, not at all broken door.”

Indrid smiles brightly, claps his hands together, “it is you!” He holds out his hands and Duck reaches for him, right as a noise startles them both.

“Duck? Duck!” 

Indrid. Again.  
With a mixture of horror and annoyance at the fact that he has to deal with such a cliche, life or death question, he watches as an exact duplicate of the Indrid in front of him rounds another corner. 

“Duck, don’t!” The newcomer cries out, running towards them.

“Uh uh, hold up, neither of you move okay?”

Both Indrids go still as he tries to think of something the real Indrid would do that the mimic wouldn’t.

“Duck, please, please, can’t you tell it’s me?” The first Indrid asks.

“Don’t you dare try to trick him you monster.” The last word leaves the second Indrids lips in a hiss.

“Love, don’t listen to him, please.” The first Indrid fidgets with his necklace anxiously.

Duck gets an idea. He turns his back on the second Indrid, facing the first.

“Yeah, darlin, you’re right. He ain’t really you.”

There’s a noise of pure indignation behind him. 

“I cannot believe that after everything, all the things we've been through, you still don’t believe me about something so crucial, you, you, absolute _jerk_.”

Duck grins, keeps his eyes on the first Indrid as he jogs backwards towards the second, “See, much as I been dyin to hear you say you love me, knew there was no way you wouldn’t argue with me if I did somethin you thought was foolish.”

As soon as he touches the second Indrids hand, the first snarls at him. 

“Fine.” It shifts, false bones snapping and fake flesh rending.

“Jesus fuck that’s nasty.” 

“Agreed. Shall we run away?”

Duck holds his hand tightly and takes off in the direction (he hopes) of the surface. 

“Can you use your foresight to see which way to go?”

“I’m trying, I’m afraid the explosion sort of rattled me and I’m having a hard time keeping my futures straight, but, um, right, go right and then left. Then, wait, Duck we have a choice to make.”

“I’m listenin” 

“I can use the futures to see where all the people the mimic has taken are. They’re alive. We could go to them, help them get free, but it puts us in danger. But if we save ourselves, there’s a very good chance they, they won’t get out of here.”

Duck stops, pulls Indrid into a concealed spot, in case the damn thing catches up with them while they’re trying to plan.

“When you say they won’t get out, do you mean they’re gonna die if we leave ‘em?”

“Yes. Either in the ensuing fight or the destruction it causes. And that future is going up with every second. I, I want to try and stop it, I want to help them but I don’t know if we can keep it from happening."

“Indrid” Duck grips his shoulders, speaks with a confidence that he feels only because he must, for both their sakes, “I swear to you, I ain’t gonna let that happen. We’re gonna stop this, you and me together. Lead the way.”

The taller man squares his shoulders and steps into the hallway. He stops and starts at first, as if trial-running paths in his head, Duck keeping a lookout as he does. The mimic doesn’t show it’s, or anyone elses face, but Duck doesn’t find that as reassuring as he wishes he could.

Finally, they reach a set of heavy swinging doors that won’t budge when Indrid tries to open them. 

“If we both charge it at once, we have a decent chance of it working.”

“On three. One, two, three.”

The doors give, sending them both tumbling to the floor in the dark room. As their eyes adjust, bodies come into view in the gloom. Duck spies Ned laying close to them, crawls over and feels for a pulse.

“Thank fuck, he ain’t dead.”

“It looks like they’re in a sort of stasis.” Indrid examines another young man, one with purple hair.

“How do we wake ‘em up?”

“You don’t.” Comes a growl from the shadows. 

The mimic appears, and Indrid claps his hands over his mouth in horror. 

It’s an immense figure now, a sickly, brown oozing color, looking for all the world like a nightmare amalgam of woodland animals; bear heads and fangs, parts of a deer, coyote teeth snapping. 

Duck pulls Indrid close, whispers, “If I can distract it long enough, can you run through futures to see how to beat it?”

“I can certainly try.”

“HEY UGLY” Duck chucks an half full jar of god-knows-what at the monster, which snarls and lurches towards him. It’s much slower now which, he thinks grimly, may be the only thing working in his favor. 

He scurries away, finds a sharp, broken board and makes a swinging throw, managing to stab the creature through one of its heads. That gets him a howl, though one head turns to look back at Indrid. 

“Oh no you don’t!” He throws another board, but the creature is on to him. It lumbers towards his boyfriend, and even as he runs he knows it won’t be fast enough.

There’s a _crack_ and the mimic shrieks.

“Nice shot babe.” Barclay picks his way over debris as Stern takes aim again. The mimic rears back a hand, then throws it forward, sending a piece of itself flying. The ooze catches Barclay, and Stern’s shot goes wide, hitting the wall. He drops to the ground, trying to free the larger man from the writhing muck.

Duck picks up another canister (what the fuck even was this room? A mad scientist's lab?) and hurls it, distracting the creature enough for Barclay to get loose. He grabs the tranced-out Indrid, pulling him behind a table, Stern close behind. Duck dives down to join them.

“What’s the play?” 

“I kinda assumed you were the one who knew” Barclay looks increasingly worried. 

“We need a way to get the civilians out.”

“Stern, we _are_ civilians.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No one is getting out!” The mimic roars, bringing a limb down on the table. Barclay hacks at it with his axe, which the creature promptly hits from his hand.

“Shit!”

_Bang_

“YOU AGAIN” it howls, turning to face Mama. She’s covered in dust, and has a gash down her cheek, but Duck would still put his money on her in this fight.

“Yeah, me again. And again” she fires “and again” another shot, “and again” on the fourth blast the monster goes down, “until you stop messin with my town and my children.”

She looks over at the quartet, “start gatherin people up, fireman carry ‘em, drag ‘em if you have to, because I got a bad feelin I’m gonna run out of bullets before this thing stops kickin.”

Indrid jolts out of his trance, “Fire! It can be killed by fire! Someone, quick, there is a canister of gasoline somewhere in that cabinet.” He points and Duck is moving, grabbing the dusty can and sprinting over to douse the abomination. 

“Somebody hand me a match.” He holds out his hand.

Silence.

“Duck, I don’t think anyone has one” Stern scans the room frantically.

“Then look around! Gotta be a lighter or a match or somethin in this place.”

“Oh no.” Indrid watches as the monster begins to rise, stumbling less from Mama’s next shot than they need it to. 

Duck rifles through drawers with the others as the monster laughs, “You all will not be joining your friends here. I am going to tear you apart before I take your place.”

“C'mon, c’mon,” Duck mutters, overturning thing after useless thing “we need fire, just a little fire.”

“Did someone say ‘fire?’” 

They all whirl at once to find Aubrey standing very, very close to the mimic. 

She snaps her fingers.

Sparks spit into the air. 

And with a horrible, squelching road, the monster goes up in flames, melting to the ground like a putrid candle. 

As it oozes its last, the unconscious bodies start to stir. Aubrey gives an “all clear” hand gesture, and Dani, Thacker, and Boyd enter the room. 

“There you are you absolute-” Whatever Boyd is going to say to Ned is cut off when the other man embraces him. He glowers at the others, daring them to say anything, as he crushes Ned in a hug. 

“Glad you’re in one piece, Maddie.”

“You too, Arlo, even if it means you’re still usin that nickname.” She punches him lightly on the shoulder, “And you” she picks Aubrey up in a bear hug, “never been so happy that you carry that fuckin flash paper with you everywhere.”

“Umm, where are we?” Asks the young man with purple hair.

“On the outskirts of town, underground. It’s a long story.” Stern says in his smoothest, nothing-to-see-here voice.

“O-kay, oh shit!” he scrambles across to floor to another waking figure, “Juice, it got you too?”

“Wha? What the fuck? Shit, I have work in an hour.”

There are many similar conversations as the dazed, grimy group gets their bearings. Dani and Thacker lead the way out, Duck and Indrid bringing up the rear. 

As they reach the exit, Indrid takes his hand, smiling, and says softly, “you chose me. You chose the real me.”

“Yep. I’ll admit it had me goin for a minute, but I also knew it was offerin me somethin too good to be true.”

“Because it said it loved you?”

Duck looks down, the admission clawing it’s way up his throat through his embarrassment. “Yeah.”

“I have to disagree.”

“Course you do” Duck teases.

“I disagree because you’re wrong. I do love you, Duck. I love you so very much.”

Duck stops dead in the doorway, turning to look at the wide, delighted smile on Indrids face. Then he pulls him into a kiss, dipping him just for the hell of it, Indrid laughing in between returning his kisses. 

“I love you too, ‘Drid.” He whispers as they straighten back up. 

The world goes suddenly, piercingly white, both of them shielding their eyes as it does. 

“This is Agent Hayes, FBI.” Says a megaphone voice, “and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll all put your hands up.”

Duck and Indrid comply, as does the rest of the group. In front of them, they hear Stern mutter one, solitary sentence. 

“I’m so fired.”


	20. Conflict, Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes stare down the FBI. Indrid weighs the odds. Ned makes an offer.

“Well,” Agent Hayes approaches Mama, who is standing, deliberately, between the FBI and the students, “I ought to have known you were involved, Ms. Cobb.”

“Why? Because the damn thing actually got solved?”

Hayes doesn’t respond, calls over his shoulder, “Reynolds, please assist the civilians in getting home. Except for this group.”

Then he looks past Mama, “Stern, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Stern straightens, voice surprisingly calm “Agent Hayes, I was under the impression this site was no longer in use by our agency, and therefore we did not need clearance to look for our missing friends in this location.”

“I’m not talking about that, Stern, although failing to notify us that you’d encountered an alien entity was not a wise choice. I’m talking about the fact that you’ve been deliberately hiding an asset we’ve been seeking from us.”

“Asset?” Stern looks back at the others, puzzled. 

“He means skinny over there.” Boyd jerks his head towards Indrid.

“Yes, Mr.Mosche, and you failed to deliver him even after we gave you an advance on your fee.” Hayes raises an eyebrow. 

“You kidnapped him? What the seven levels of hell is wrong with you?” Ned turns to his former partner.

“Didn’t kidnap him. Kidnapped Duck instead.”

Ned narrows his eyes, “I don’t suppose any of you have my cane, as I am overcome with the need to use it on a certain someones' head.”

“I...didn’t realize Indrid was anything other than a fellow student with some slightly odd abilities.” Stern takes a deep breath, “because if I had I would have made doubly sure you never got your hands on him.”

“Thin ice, Stern.” Hayes says, voice clipped “you have no idea how valuable he could be to national security.”

“As a weapon, you mean. And you have no idea how little I am interested in such a thing.” Indrids voice is remarkably mild given the circumstances, “then again, perhaps you did know, and that’s why you resorted to such methods to try and get a hold of me.”

“Correct, Mr. Cold.” Hayes moves forward Duck is in front of Indrid before the agent makes it one step.

“Don’t you get any nearer.”

“Careful, Mr.Newton, or I might think you’re threatening a federal officer.”

“Do I look like I give a shit?” Duck gestures to his ripped clothes, the soot in his hair, and his bruises, “I just fought a motherfuckin monster, you think I’m scared of you?”

“Mr.Newton, I assure you-”

“You assure me of nothin! You had Indrid kidnapped! You keep talkin about him like he ain’t a person! Why the fuck should Iet you anywhere near him!?”

“Ends and means, Mr.Newton. Ends and means. I’m sure Mr.Cold can be compelled to come with us.”

“Duck” Indrid touches his arm, “I don’t want to go. But if the option is they try to harm the rest of you, I will. And the futures show them being very ready to do just that.”

“Right again. A few students, or one cafe owner, mean very little in the grand scheme of things, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Uh, _no_” Aubrey says, the agent whirling to look at her. 

“Which is why we’ve been recording this since you started talking to Stern.” Dani grins from behind her phone. Aubrey is holding hers up as well, though she still manages to flip Hayes the bird. 

“Dunno about you, Agent Hayes, but I wouldn’t try to out-bluff these two girls.”

“And,” Indrid says, “since you’re so interested in my abilities, allow me to demonstrate them: in every future those videos go out, you lose your job, and cost the division a severe drop in credibility. And if you ever try to kidnap me again, those videos are released and create the exact same results.” His smile is wide, eerily pleased with himself, and as he trains it on Hayes the agent steps backward. 

Indrid keeps smiling, and eventually Hayes is all the way back where he started. He turns toe to toe with Mama, pointing at her. 

“Fine. We will pretend this incident never occurred, and leave Mr. Cold and the rest of you in peace. But if you interfere with our operations again-”

“Yeah, yeah” Mama presses his hand down out of her face, “I get it. Look, now that this thing is dead, I’m retirin from monster huntin. You won’t be seein me again.”

Hayes turns on his heel, satisfied. Then stops.

“Oh, Stern? You’re fired.”

And then he disappears into the flood of headlights.

Barclay wraps his arm around his boyfriend, “You, uh, you okay?”

“I will be. I sort of figured I would lose the internship after this.” He shrugs, half-heartedly, “I just don’t really know what to do now. That was my life’s work, getting into the UP.”

“Let me tell you something, young Joseph.” Ned slaps Sterns arm, making them both wince, “one can reinvent their life's work many times over. For instance, a young person with an interest in the paranormal might make an excellent employee at the Crytonomica. At least, until he finds new work that speaks to him.”

As Ned recruits a new employee, Duck gathers a jittery Indrid into his arms. 

“Goodness, what a night.”

“You’re tellin me. Jesus,” he starts giggling with relief, “did you see his face when you started smilin at him.”

“Well, in his defense, I have been told I’m _offputting_.”

Duck grins at him, “Don’t know who woulda told you a thing like that, but they were full of shit. Because you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, and I love you somethin fierce.”

Indrid laughs, and pulls Duck into a delighted, demanding kiss as the sun rises on new day.   
\-------------------------  
It’s early June, and Dani is packing her suitcases. On the floor beside her, Aubrey is trying to coax Dr. Harris Bonkers into his travel carrier. 

“C’mon, look, I even put apple slices in it. You love apple slices.”

The rabbit sticks his nose out from under the bed, then cautiously hops into the carrier in search of produce. Aubrey shuts the door, earning her a disgruntled honk from the furry doctor. 

“I kinda thought he’d be more excited. This is, like, our first real tour.”

“Maybe he’s not looking forward to the drive.” Dani smiles, zips up her last bag, “or maybe he’s jealous that I get to go work with plants while he has to get lit on fire.”

“He loves being lit on fire!”

“I know, fireblossom, I know.” 

It’s still hard to believe that Aubrey managed to book shows in all the cities surrounding the site of Dani’s summer fieldwork (she’ll be back in Kepler for her graduate program come fall). Then again, Aubrey's determination is one of the things she loves best about her.

“Whelp, everythin’s loaded.” Mama steps into the room, considers the two young women solemnly. Then she opens her arms and gathers them into a bear hug.

“Lookit you two, I’m just so goddamn proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mama.” Aubrey smiles.

“You call me when you get there, you hear?” 

“We will.” Dani gets one last, bone-crushing squeeze before Mama releases them. Aubrey bounds over to her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder and hoisting the rabbit carrier in her left hand. She’s backlit by the summer sun, streaks of red glinting in her hair, and smiling so excitedly that Dani's heart is ready to flutter out of her chest.

“Ready, honey?” Aubrey holds out her hand. Dani takes it, and feels deep in her bones that as long as Aubrey's hand is in hers, she’ll be home. 

“You know it.”   
\-----------------------------------------  
It’s mid-August, and Barclay sits at his laptop, tapping his lower lip with a pencil. He got the greenlight from his publisher two weeks ago, and he’s hard at work on his return to the world of cryptozoology.

But he won’t be returning alone. 

The door creaks open and Stern steps inside, still wearing his bright green “where the heck is the cryptonomica” t-shirt.

“Hey there, ‘partner’” Barcay pulls him into a kiss before he even gets his shoes off. 

“Hi.” Stern kisses his cheek, “you would not believe who I saw heading into Boyd's studio today.”

“Who?” He keeps his arms around his boyfriend even as the shorter man heads into the bedroom.”

“Indrid.”

“No fucking way. I mean, I know Indrid was designing a new tattoo, but from Boyd?” 

“I guess he meant it when he said there were no hard feelings.” He tries to lifts his arms, then stops “Barclay, I cannot change if you won’t let go of me.”

“But I like holding you.” Barclay mock pouts. 

“I know, big guy.” Stern says softly, leaning into the embrace, “but if you want me to fill you in on the progress I made on research for the book before you have to go to the lodge, you’re going to have release me.”

“Says who? You can fill me in right here, in our office.”

“Barclay, this is the bedroom.”

“Nope, office. And this,” he pulls Stern down onto the bed with him, “is our meeting room.”

Stern laughs, nuzzles Barclays chest and surrenders to his fate, “How about we take a ten minute break before getting to work?"

“Fifteen.”

“Why fift-oh.” Barclay rolls Stern onto his back, dips down to trail kisses along his neck before lifting up onto his elbow to leer at him. 

“Because, I got some other things to ‘discuss’ with you. Partner.”

Stern grabs his head, brings it down so their lips are millimeters apart, “Sounds like an excellent plan. Partner.”


	21. In Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck comes home. Indrid makes a nest.

It's late August, and Duck is walking on air. Every time he catches sight of his reflection, of his new, honest-to-god ranger uniform he thinks he might just float off the face of the earth.

He won’t, of course, thanks to both gravity and the fact that there’s something stronger than any natural force pulling him towards his new apartment. 

As he steps through the door, the first sound that greets him is Winnie meowing as she bumps her head into his shin. The second sound is his roommate humming. His messy, amazing, sweet-tooth having, handsome, talented roommate. He recognizes the melody, a JackelNope song off an early album. 

“Told you those older albums were worth it.” He steps into the bedroom. 

Indrid smiles at him from his circular nest of sketchpads, pens, and pencils, “Yes, and you were right.” He begins clearing space on the bed, “how was your first day as an official ranger of Jepsen State Park?”

“I mean, it ain’t all that different from what Thacker had me doin before. But it feels, I dunno, more real somehow. Like I’m really gonna be able to do this for the rest of my life.” He settles on the edge of the moth-patterned bedspread, pulling off his boots. A kiss graces the back of his neck, just above his collar.

“I’m glad, sweetheart.”

“How’re the sketches comin?”

“They’re coming together nicely. I can’t believe it didn’t occur to Boyd earlier that he might need more than one artist designing for him. But he’s paying quite well for these flash sheets so…” The thinner man shrugs.

“Still think he’s gettin you at a steal.” Duck shifts so they’re sitting face to face, kisses Indrids nose.

“Doing this for free was enough of an apology.” Indrid rubs his hand along his newest tattoo on his upper arm, the ink still vibrant and fresh. It’s two figures in flight; a wood duck and a large Luna moth, the movement of the drawing such that they appear to be in an aerial dance. 

Duck’s traces the moth with his finger, “You still up for celebratin with us tonight? Know those bad visions last night kinda kept you up.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. However,” he leans closer, brushing Ducks lips with his own, “I suggest we celebrate in another way before we go out.”

“Oh yeah? What d’you have in mind, darlin?”

“You ought to pick” He kisses a line down Ducks cheek as he speaks, “after all, it’s your success we’re celebrating.”

Duck sits back on his heels, considering his boyfriend, when a fantasy he’s been planning floats to the top of his mind.

“Get naked and lay down, eyes closed. And” he lifts Indrids glasses off carefully, “no peekin usin your powers.”

“Mean.” Indrid purrs, tank-top already halfway off his body. Once he’s down, eyes obediently shut, Duck pulls a box from his closet and removes the new strap on, already in the harness, lube, and a box of condoms. 

“Now” he puts on his best, no-nonsense tone, “here’s how this is gonna go: I’m gonna fuck you sweet and hard with this, and every time you get close to comin, you tell me.”

“You’re going to edge me until I beg.”

“What did I say about peekin?”

“It was reasonable conjecture-AH!” His back arches as Duck pushes the first finger inside. 

“Uh huh, suuuure it was.”

“Don’t, don’t you use that charming drawl of yours to mock me, Duck Newton.”

“Why? What’re you gonna do about it.” He reaches up, tweaking the bar in Indrids left nipple. A whimper, and Indrid pushing down on his fingers.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He kisses Indrids shoulder, then his neck, before sitting up slightly to brush his silvery hair from his eyes, “You look so goddamn good like this.”

“Mrrphm” Indrid hides his face in his hands, blushing

“Darlin, we been together awhile, you oughta be used to me complimentin you by now.”

“Never.” It’s muffled, but fond, “I will never truly get used to the fact that you see me that way.”

“Guess I’ll just have to keep remindin you.” He pushes in two more fingers at once, swallows up Indrids gasps. Kisses down his neck, his chest, working his fingers with gentle purpose as he does.

“You’re so handsome, you look so cute when you get all hot and bothered, and I love watchin it happen. I love watchin you be happy.” He laps at Indrids cock until it’s fully hard, the other man whining when he pulls both his head and his fingers back.

“You want me to fuck you, sweet thing?”

“Please, oOHHHHWHAT?” Indrid yelps in surprise as Duck switches on the vibration function of the toy. 

“That a good noise?” Duck pauses midway in.

“Yes, yesyesyesyes” Indrid grabs his hips, after some flailing, and pulls him down, pushing his cock the rest of the way.

“Heh, glad you like it.” 

“So much, Duck, sweetheart, oh_yes_” his voice cracks as Duck pounds into him, sucking a hickey on his neck, just below his ear.

“Close, close” Indrid squeaks.

Duck pulls out.

“Bu-wha-nooooo” Indrid whimpers softly, making grabby hands in Ducks general direction. Duck chuckles, taking one hand and kissing it.

“Easy darlin, I’ll come back. Eventually.”

“Come back now, please.” He groans, jerking his hips uselessly in the air.

“Well, alright” he pushes back in and Indrid keens, wrapping his legs around him, “Not in the mood to tease you too bad today, not with you lookin so good and ruined.”

Indrids hands skate up his back, tangle in his hair, and pull him down into messy, loving kiss. Duck moans happily into it, the familiarity of Indrids' warm, welcoming mouth as intoxicating as it was the first time they did this. 

“Ose” Indrid mutters, refusing to end the kiss. 

When Duck pulls out this time, Indrid looks like he might cry.

“You want me to keep goin?”

“Pleeeeeease.” Indrid doesn’t seem to notice Duck rolling the condom down.  
“I wanna that sweet voice of yours say it.” He wiggles out of the harness hurriedly. Indrid pauses, and for a moment he wonders if he’s switched into the mode where he wants to be playfully bratty.

“Duck, I want you, no, I _need_ you to fuck me right this instant. I want to feel you sweetheart, I want to touch you I wantOH ohgod.” His hands fly to the pillow when Duck sinks down on him, his mind conjuring up puzzle pieces, locks and keys, and every other cliche image of two things fitting together at the feeling of Indrids cock inside him.

“You, fuckin hell, you can open your eyes.”

Red-brown eyes meet his own, and they’re so adoring, so utterly flooded with love, that Duck pauses bending down to kiss Indrid sweetly. 

“Gonna ride the hell out of you, darlin.”

“Mmmmmm, such a good boy.” Indrid purrs.

“You know it.” He smirks, rolling his hips fast and grinding down whenever he can, Indrid praising him in increasingly nonsensical phrases. 

“That’s it, sogood, ohgodsogood, god, Duck, yes.”

Duck kisses him again, both because he loves it and so that he can feel his moans and screams of pleasure when he tugs at his piercings. Indrids hips jolt against him, the sound of him frantically fucking into him wet and obscene. 

Nails dig into his ass and Indrid whimpers, thrusts growing weaker and weaker as he comes. Duck sits up, grinning at him.

“Come, come up here. Need to, oh goodness that was strong one, need to suck your dick.”

Duck scrambles up his chest, straddling his face as an eager tongue licks and sucks at him without hesitation.

“Fuck, darlin, that feels so fuckin nice, love watchin your sweet little mouth when you suck my dick, fuck_shit_.” He ruts against him greedily, Indrids hands playing up and down his thighs as he doubles his efforts. 

“C’mon, lemme come on that cute face, lemme jus-fuck” He groans as his orgasm hits him, digs one of his hands into Indrids hair, forcing him to stay in place as he Jerks his hips, streaking slick along his lips and chin.

Then he lets go and immediately flops onto the mattress. Indrid laughs, gathers him into his arms, coating his face in kisses. 

“Gonna come so hard I pass out one of these days.”

“Please don’t, that would be very alarming.”

“Figure of speech, goofus.”

“You are the goofus.” Indrid bites his ear playfully. 

Duck rolls onto his side so Indrid can spoon him, breathing even out as he adds, “we oughta shower before dinner. Otherwise we’re gonna get teased for havin sex hair.”

“Whatever you wish, my love.” Indrid says sleepily.

“Ah, no dozin off on me, we got a date to keep. Come on, we can do it together.”

The shower is uneventful (which is to say there is only minor pawing rather than full on fucking), and soon he’s dried and dressed, waiting by the door as Indrid slip on his shoes and tucks his fidget cube into his pocket.

Indrid offers his arm, “Ready, my love?”

Duck smiles, joins their arms together, “With you by my side, darlin, I’m always ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading, this was such a fun AU to do.
> 
> Enjoy my writing? Have a buck to spare? https://ko-fi.com/thiswasinevitable


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